Reason For Life
by LadySeradeRETURNS
Summary: Hermione uses the Time Turner to go back before the Potter's death, not to change things, but to change the outlook of Sirius's life. She went back for the sake of Harry, the Order and for his salvation. She didn't do it to fall in love
1. Reason For Life

_A note from Serade Black: Yet, another story I am set to embark upon. This will be a Time Turner fic, based upon a time that Hermione will go back to the Maurader's age, but she will return. I am not usually a big fan of such fics, but this one I feel I may do justice to the genre. As always, my fics will remain PG-13 here on , but in the archive listed on my bio page, you can find the higher rated version of the chapters. At the beginning of an edited chapter, I will note which ones are longer at my other archive, so if is fitting to you, enjoy regardless. Thank you to the readers that have stuck with me and I hope to wrap you up in another Sirius/Hermione tale._

_SB_

**Chapter 1 - Reason for Life**

The stars shone bright overhead of number twelve Grimmauld Place. The air was slightly damp, filling the senses with the beginnings of fall slowly rolling in like a silent fog. The breeze blew faint scents of fragrant flowers from the garden, drifting over newly cut grass. The antique birdbath with rusted legs dripped quietly, trying to send off an alluring sound to quench the thirst of the tree-harboring that had rested for the night, during their flight south.

Light laughter and jeers were heard inside behind him in a calming celebration. The energy that September nineteenth was pure and enlightening. A far change from a dark oblivion he was so familiar with.

Sirius Black sat outside on the backdoor step of number twelve Grimmauld Place, overlooking the small garden with colorful shadows, momentarily escaping the joyous time. His friends, his extended family, the entire Weasley clan, a toddler or two, and his best friend's son, Harry Potter filled the kitchen and overflowing into several sitting rooms while they toasted their guest of honor.

With wavy tendrils of ash brown hair, rosebud lips and eyes of chocolate he used to get lost in, Hermione Granger was the center of attention.

_She's twenty-one now. She was twenty-one then. When will she leave? When will she know?_

The constant reoccurring question in his mind was interrupted by the aging door hinges, announcing that seclusion was over.

"Sirius? Why are you sitting out here?" an angelic voice asked. Hermione shut the door behind her and joined him on the step.

Sirius was hunched over his knees, balancing on his elbows as he concentrated on the glass bottle he held comforting in his hands. Still casual, just like always, platonically, he glanced over and gave her a slight smile, indicating that he was just looking for a moment of that "alone time" he seemed to be taking more often now and then.

He shook his head, sating her question, "Just taking a moment."

She looked away from him, resting on her knees the same as he, mentally thanking herself for the momentary solitude he'd found. She needed it after opening Bill and Fleur's gifts of new running shoes that ran for you. Fleur had chased Hermione around the living room, demonstrating their ability, quickly losing control and was currently making her fourteenth lap around the block.

_She's just so pretty and it's been torture to have her not know. _

His eyes dipped down to her lips briefly as he admired her profile in the moonlit light. Her hair fell before her shoulders like curtains, so soft and touchable; he fought the familiar urge to run his fingers through her curls. Building up inside of him, the insatiable urge to move on was nearly overpowering, so instead he chewed the inside of his lip to pacify his temptation.

"Are you okay, Sirius? You've been kind of quiet these last few weeks," she asked casually, looking up at the stars.

He loved watching the way her profile reminded him of an ethereal angel, the kind that usually got lost in worshiping the elements. Such a sweet button nose, smooth chin and soft neck. The sensual side of his memory box remembered slowly licking along her jawbone to her ear lobe.

"Just anxious," he replied. He glanced back up towards the company of the stars above him, trying to pick out the one she was looking at that very moment.

She looked over at him and gave him a customary head tilt, "Anxious? About what?"

He did not look over at her; he still tried to pick out which one would be her star if she were above him. He intended on keeping the conversation simple, low maintenance and just replied again, "Just anxious."

Watching him was like trying to figure out a puzzle that was impossible. Ever since she first met him, she always felt a sort of comfort around him, and she couldn't explain it. He had the adventure of a child, trapped in a (handsome) man's body, with the soul and knowledge of an Elder. He was her enigma.

Her chest rose and fell like normal as she spoke to him, but as it turned out, she hindered too long on looking at him that it caught his attention when she let out a louder than normal sigh. He slowly offered her a million galleon charming smile and she mentally shook herself from her momentary hypnotism.

"So," she cleared her throat. "What have I to look forward to, Sirius? Being twenty-one feels an awful lot like being twenty," she charmed.

The older wizard flipped a few stray black wavy locks from his sightlines and looked ahead of him into the garden, as if trying to sound like a wise man. "Well, you're legal to have a pint in the States, now."

"Well, I'll be sure to jump on that, please continue," she smiled.

He smiled warmly to her, watching the way her nose wrinkled when she teased or the way her eyes would sparkle with life behind them, or the romantic way a few of her own unruly wisps of hair got away from their elastic restraints of a pony tail. Her voice had a light charm to it, which at times it would render Sirius speechless, setting himself on a short journey of a time that once was. A time he often revisited again in his dreams, the way he did when he was in captivity.

Giving himself a light shake, he didn't let himself get away with him, so he thought on. "You will begin to feel certain parts of yourself 'giving off' now and then, because at your age-"

"My age!" she snipped, feigning overdramatic shock, but overtly joyful. "People who live in glass houses, Mr. Black…"

His right shoulder felt the light tap from her swift palm, quickly followed with an enchanting giggle. He met her with a low chuckle that complimented her well, and he flashed her that smile that always made her heart skip one extra beat for no reason.

She looked away and missed him giving her a side glance that spoke a thousand words. _When, Hermione? We stayed up several nights in a row discovering all that is now considered taboo. _Currently, his status was defeated.

Enchanting music filled both sets of ears as it traveled outside from the house. Inside a charmed record player belted out a waltz and the constant laughter had since dulled. It was assumed that the party-goers had taken to following the elder Weasley's lead to dance, or they'd all passed out from humility. A single applause indicated that there were a few dancers floating around the sitting room, making Sirius smirk to himself over a light memory he shared when he and Andromeda were children.

Hermione started to stand from the shared spot on the stairs, but when she saw Sirius did not move, she was slightly torn. His head was now bowing down, staring at the low level of his butterbeer bottle. His midnight black tendrils fell to the tops of his shoulders, creating a curtain around his rugged good looks.

"Coming inside?" Hermione asked as she stood by the door, waiting to go back in the house.

Sirius couldn't look back at her. His thoughts were too far gone then where he ought to be. He figured that a few more minutes in his isolation would assist him in suppressing his memories a bit longer, until slumber came to him in the evening like a welcomed death. Being this close to her and not knowing, was tearing him up inside.

He looked back up into the garden with the purple orchids waving about in the light wind. Low light from the moon bathed the flowers before him like a speckled spotlight. "No, you go ahead. I'm going to take a little bit more time to watch the stars."

Her face unconsciously frowned and her hand rested on the handle of the old door leading into the festivities. She yearned to go back inside, hoping for the chance to be whisked away in a pair of arms that would protect her and carry her to the music. In evening's passed, Kingsley, Charlie, or even Arthur humored her for a dance, seeing as they were the only ones that could lead. The rest of the male lot seemed to have the amount of rhythm as a bumblebee.

Hermione watched how every now and then he'd look up at the stars as if he were waiting for something, but mostly he just stared off towards the garden. Her heart strings pulled with the thought of him out here, but he normally didn't mind his solitude. Quite recently, he'd started to prefer it, often finding him in his room reading or coming in from an excursion alone. Not that he didn't enjoy company; it just seemed that his mind was weighing heavy from something he couldn't stop focusing on.

"Dance with me?" she whispered, holding her breath in her throat. She didn't know where it came from.

Sirius had thought he heard a sound echo through the tree branches of the old oak in the back garden, but glanced back at Hermione who stood there watching him. Surely, he didn't hear her voice again.

"Sorry?" Sirius tested to see if she did say something and not just watching him.

She took a deep breath, building her confidence, "I said, dance with me?"

Sirius felt the air leave his lungs, like she'd just spoken absolute heaven to him. The air around him chilled his ears and the sounds blended together as his vision narrowed in on her and only her. The moonlight illuminated her face so beautifully; she appeared like a vintage photo taken by infrared photography.

He remembered to blink before his eyes dried up and he moved at the speed of a turtle, feeling each muscle taking their time, allowing her request to sink into his center.

"It is my birthday, after all," she added with a smirk.

He managed to stand up slowly and poetically, his back straight, his chin lifted and he smirked down at her, "It'd be my pleasure."

Hermione didn't know why she asked him, she just didn't want him to sit on the step outside all night when all his friends were inside enjoying themselves. It pulled at her to see him setting himself up for his solitude and felt that a request would at least take him away from his heavy mental burden he neglected to share with the rest of the household.

He stood up slow like a mechanical statue, his hair falling before his shoulders clad in a velvet knees-length coat with black onyx buttons. The seams cut to his slender figure like they would on a perfect mannequin; his overall presence was enough to take a single breath away from her.

He said nothing, only extended his hand for her to take hold. She bit her lip at the royal offering and took her hand off doorknob and put it into his waiting palm. Once their hands were joined he couldn't help but run a thumb over her soft fingers as he pulled her down off the top stair to reposition themselves in the center of the garden. Small fairy lights buzzed around the ground of the fence, showing the way and the music seemed to travel through the trees better, setting the rhythm for a slow closed waltz.

Very carefully, as if he were touching a fragile doll, he placed his hand gently on her waist as he lightly held her right hand up. In return, she slowly slid her hand over the soft fabric on his shoulder, preparing for a proper waltz.

Nodding his head to the steady beat to signal their beginning, he puffed up his chest as he felt the old magic flow through him as he released a locked box of old memories. Unconsciously pulling her closer as he slid his hand around to her lower back, he carried her right hand lightly as if she were a princess in his arms, weary of the surrounding areas and her lack of comfort at all times.

Feeling her close to him, again, it was almost like teasing a child with a tempting dessert he could never have, or not have for quite sometime. He'd waited for this night for years, using it as hope to get him through the toughest times in his life, knowing that the outcome will make all the difference.

Hermione smiled as she was delicately carried throughout the slow dance, his protective arm holding her close. She felt light, airy and entranced as Sirius led her to believe she was the greatest dancer in the world with him. His hair blew lightly around him as he moved with smooth steps over freshly cut grass, once in awhile setting his deep blue eyes on her to see if she was still enjoying herself. He smelled so enticing with his aged cologne that she only associated with him whenever she'd smell it walking through a store in Hogsmeade. It was about the only regal thing he still did that was connected to the Black family and that was splurging on the finest of the fine when it came to clothing, colognes and ancient liquors. Whenever he'd walk by her on his way out, he'd leave a faint scent that would cause a slight skip of a heartbeat, completely unexplainable to why.

The music played into her ears, through her imagination and down into her blood, feeling the energy surging between them as they danced elegantly in the garden of Grimmauld Place. Never had she stood so close, for so long, with Sirius that it was almost comforting, like something familiar. His lengthy locks appeared soft to the touch and before she thought it out properly, she made the bold move to rest her head against his shoulder, feeling those soft locks against her cheek.

Sirius watched, as if she moved in slow motion, her head slowly dipping lower and lower, until she was pressed against him in a romantic fashion, allowing him to slow down his waltz, in order for her to get a steady rest. He held his breath, his lips parting in surprise, and he stiffened his back when he felt her relax innocently against him. Like a vampire tempted with the blood of a virgin, he felt his throat closing and his heart beginning to beat faster.

_She can't know._

He fought the desire to interlace her fingers with his as he cradled her hand. He turned his face away, fearful that he might falter and rest his chin on the crown of her head, to admire the way their hands fit so well together. _They always did._ But, temptation won him over and he granted himself a sweet longing by closing his eyes and breathing in the fragrant scent of her hair.

He was playing with fire, he knew that. It was still some time off before anything could be said and tonight of all nights, was only the beginning of a very long road of waiting. He only knew she was twenty-one when it happened.

The unsettling feeling like watchful eyes were on them, Sirius's fantasy was broken when he opened up his eyes and there standing in the doorway was Remus. The music ended from inside the house and Hermione pulled away from Sirius's hold, looking up with swimmingly beautiful brown eyes and a genuine smile for him. He could say nothing.

She took a few steps backwards; a slight lopsided grin remained over her lips, unusually happy for some reason. She felt refreshed, enlightened, and enchanted when she danced with Sirius that it sunk into her bones like a foreign drug she felt a guilty pleasure for dabbling with it. Without saying anything, she ducked her head and walked away, as if being summoned by a parent to come back inside.

She was already halfway across the back garden and nearing Remus before Sirius managed to breathe, fearing that the illusion around them would disappear like a bubble and it was, again, another dream.

She went up the first step and turned back to face her dark knight standing amongst the twinkling fairies in the flowers, "Thank you, Sirius."

He still said nothing. He couldn't move. He was frozen with guilty pleasures, having been teased with something he'd waited so long for. Her touch, her scent, her heartbeat against his, it had all happened so quickly, it was over before he could commit it to his new memory bank, for his old one was near dusty and nineteen years old.

Hermione had gone back inside, the sound of the closing door breaking his train of thought. All that remained were he and Remus, and Remus was slightly scowling down at his longtime best friend. Sirius followed his eyes up to his friend's, having known that he was about to be berated for his thoughtless actions.

Remus's eyes had lost their twinkle the moment he came outside to check on Sirius, and had not noticed Hermione slipping away as well. He came upon a scene that was all too familiar, just in the wrong time.

"You can't touch her, Sirius," Remus said, as if reminding him of a forbidden rule.

Sirius's face cringed momentarily when the words were said and he shook his head as if he didn't know what he was doing, either.

"You don't need to remind me, Moony. It's just that she's twenty-one, now and -"

Remus held up a palm to stop him from speaking as he stood before him still in the garden, "Don't even tempt her, she'll go when it's time. You do something now and it very well might threaten her entire journey and you'll be…well, you'll never know, will you?"

Sirius's shoulders slumped and his entire body displayed absolute defeat. The comforting weight of her head against his chest and the fragrant scent of her hair were gone before he could blink. Remus was right, he mustn't interfere. All he could do now...was wait.

Wait until she got the Time Turner.


	2. Harrods, London

_A note from Serade Black: Thank you to all my readers for the warm welcome of this new work in progress. To answer a couple of questions so far, yes you will learn why and how she goes back, but no she will not change events. I cannot write a Time Turner fic if all she does is go back and make wrongs right. That is not the motive for the story. I will admit that I left you on a bit of a small, unnecessary cliffhanger, but that was merely a morsel I wanted to throw to you. You will learn more, as I'm moving things around over the span of 5 chapters all ready. The updates, hopefully, won't take too long._

_SB_

Chapter 2 - Harrods

The front door slammed loud enough for the portraits to moan about the wall vibrations, but Hermione was quick to come inside because of the torrential down pour outside. It'd been a windy week, but now Mother Nature had decided to bring in the worst weather yet and as Hermione shook out her umbrella, it was no surprise when she discovered a tear in it.

She pulled out her wand and whispered, "Reparo!" Immediately, the canvas of the umbrella was reseamed like new and folded up to lay by the front door.

After she shrugged off her coat, she looked into the sitting room for any signs of life. "Hello? Remus?"

She heard him answer from the kitchen and continued on down the dark narrow hallway that was illuminated by dripping lanterns on the walls. Grimmauld Place had long lost its normal eerie and otherwise creepy feeling, but it was still decorated with dark and gothic fixtures. After cleaning it out from pixies and hexes, it turned out to be a rather lovely place to keep the meetings and for Sirius and Remus to reside in as housemates. The house was big enough, that they'd often go days without seeing the other.

Today had been one of the off days and when she pushed through the door like a ray of light, both Sirius and Remus were sitting down and having a meal. With a half empty firewhisky bottle on the table and pot roast remains, it appeared she had come in while the two were in mid discussion. Once she entered, they both buttoned their lips up faster than a snitch in its last second play.

"Have I interrupted something?"

Remus smiled warmly, "Not at all. Hungry?" He stood to start her plate as Sirius remained seated, strumming his fingers on the table looking otherwise annoyed.

Politely, she shook her head, her lazy curls falling around her shoulders. "No, thank you. I'll just make myself some tea."

Along the way, she met Remus with a half hug and received a kiss on her cheek. As she came around the table, she leaned over the back of Sirius and wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug, letting her hair fall against his. He reached for her hand and gave it a casual quick kiss on the back of it. Nothing unusual, for people who fought together generally showed a stronger affection for one another outside of long time friends. Giving or receiving kisses in greetings with anyone in the Order, was like seeing a long time family member. It was what you did.

Except for Sirius. Sure, he reciprocated the platonic affection she offered him, but for him it was something more meaningful. It was a waiting game, hoping that the next time he saw her, she would be different. But, until she acknowledged it, he had to remain safe for her and satisfy himself with friendly hugs and a kiss on the hand.

As she tinkered away with the tea kettle, charming it to warm for her so that she might enjoy the hot contents to warm her bones, Sirius followed his keen sense of smell.

"Is that a new perfume you're wearing, Hermione?" he lied. He had smelled it before, several years ago. But, it was the first time he'd smelled it on her in this lifetime and it was like a warm welcome home.

"Yes," she said, dipping her tea bag into the steaming cup. "I got an anonymous package delivered to my house. I took it to work to be checked out, because why would anyone send me something without a return on it? Anyway, when I brought it in and they finished with it, they were all laughing at me being afraid of a birthday present." There was a smile in her voice as she finished.

She turned around and came to sit at the table as she carefully balanced her cup and saucer. "Why? Is it too strong? You're not allergic, are you?" Quite a luxury was not common for her, so she was immediately apprehensive about the new scent.

Sirius's mouth was fixed on a small stiff smile, staring at his high ball glass with amber liquid, getting lost in his thoughts. "No, it's nice, Hermione."

The scent was nice. Romantically, nostalgically lovely on her and there was only one reason why.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The day after Hermione's birthday evening, Sirius was taking a long walk that day to clear his head. He needed to smell the fresh air, straighten out his thoughts and learn the key of patience. His feet had taken him to the heart of London, listening to the bustling sounds all around him. Along the sidewalk, he saw a young mother with her small child walking hand in hand with a skip in their step and then disappear into a big building. It was the well-known muggle department store, Harrods. A fixture of London, and usually a great place for muggle watching, Sirius slid his hands into his pockets and disappeared into the store after them. He meandered a few feet through the candy shop on the ground floor, before venturing further into the shopping monstrosity.

Upon getting lost, Sirius's senses went on overdrive when a woman walked by. His fingers twitched, his memory box opened and in a blink he turned to look behind him, but she was already blending in with the other women into a sea of luxury scents. It was floral with a tinge of spice, adding a romantic flair to the way his mind started to rekindle passionate late evenings, because it was _her_. In a dash, he was practically running to the nearest associate.

His heart started to race, he felt the hair on the back of his neck lifting and he had never felt so rejuvenated and lifted when it came to a memory of her. He could practically taste the remnants on his lips, absently licking them to believe that he had just finished whispering into her ear sweet reminders that he would dream of her for the rest of his days.

In his frantic rush, he found a slim man with a long mustache and graying hair that met him with a pleasing smile. For a moment, he startled the man, for Sirius's eyes were ablaze like he was on the treasure hunt of his life and would spare no one.

"Sir, where is the perfume counter?" Sirius practically choked out. His heart was beating so quickly, he was practically panting. The man was a bit taken with Sirius at first, but then he remembered he had to put on the "face of all Harrod's employees" and politely inquired to his urgent request. Frustrated feeling like he was running out of time, like the world was going to end, Sirius tapped his booted foot loudly on the marble floor. "The perfume counter! The perfume counter, that's all!"

"Are you looking for the Roja Dove Haute Parfumerie, sir?"

Sirius was losing patience as he was corrected with the silly arrogant title. He felt his left eyebrow twitch that he was going to strangle the bow-tie wearing man with his perfect accent; it almost made Sirius not sound English.

"Just the perfume counter! Where? What floor?" Sirius spat it out like his life depended on it, tapping his foot faster and enhancing his intensity.

"That would be on the fifth floor, sir. But, Roja Dove might not be avail-"

Before the man was able to finish his sentence, Sirius was locating the elevators and reaching his department store hell. Finally, floor five was announced and he went to where he believed he'd find a brief satisfaction until time could pass quicker. His search began, pestering the associate helping him with questions and negative answers. Sirius showed no sense of threat, but the way he hopped on his feet or rang his wrists out from nervousness was enough to set off alarms. No matter how he explained it, the attractive woman assisting him was unable to placate Sirius. It was then that he had to raise the mental white flag and meet his defeat, when he was unable to match the exact perfume to the one he remembered so fondly. A momentary taste of heaven, his glimmer of reminiscence was gone and his nostalgic light had slowly calmed to a dimmer.

Taking a moment to himself, Sirius put his hands on the counter and sighed in defeat. He shook his head slowly, taking an outside look at himself and how he must look. A pathetic looking man in his late thirties, with history of forgotten time being held captive in a dark abyss by the unknown, convicted and now mentally beaten by a prison he had created for himself. He was not going to recreate _her _and when she came back, she might very well be utterly repulsed by him. He was not the man he once was.

Sirius lifted his head and in seconds was himself again when in the public of muggles. Reserved, behaved, and now, deep in his thoughts. "I'm very sorry. I apologize for all of this," he began. His speech was slow and clear, "I don't think you have it."

From the shadows of the expensive track lighting, a bald attractive man emerged from behind the associate. He had dark eye brows and a certain dark interior about him that peaked Sirius's interest. There was an odd familiarity about him.

"Excuse me, sir. If I may ask, what is it about this scent that you desire it for?" the sophisticated man asked.

Sirius was hesitant at first, but then felt he had no need to keep it inside any longer. They were muggles, they wouldn't know and he was certain that they wouldn't know her. "It's for someone that I was in love with many, many years ago."

The balding man lifted his finger and thumb to his chin as he carefully listened to Sirius speak. He murmured a sound to continue and his hand flourished a gesture to accompany it.

"…and still am."

"Continue. I sense there is more to her than just that."

Sirius sighed like he was confessing a truth he'd harbored for too long. "She was with me in the darkest parts of my life. She made me change. She kept hidden truths from me, in order to protect people that even I loved. She was like a ripple in my life that will never stop, because she's haunted me for so many years that it's almost enough to have me institutionalized."

"And you wish to rekindle something with her?"

Sirius shook his head slowly, as if finally seeing himself for the first time outside the box. "No, I don't. If she wants me, she can find me. She can have me. But, I truly doubt that it will ever happen again. Too much time has passed and now, I'm so much older than her I don't even think she sees me."

The man nodded his understanding, taking a moment to himself by closing his eyes and picturing the romance that was described. Sirius wasn't sure what he was doing, but after he took a deep breath, he went to the furthest counter and took out a black box with silver designs on the label. Upon opening it up, he removed the small spray bottle and spritzed it on a scent card for Sirius. With an elegant swish of his wrist, he presented it to him to smell, as if it was the elixir of his life.

"Is this her?" he asked, holding out the scent card.

Sirius took it with an odd hesitation, like the pale piece of cardboard with expensive writing on it would bite. The man urged Sirius to smell the scent, as it appeared it was his job. Like a schooled monkey, he did what he was told and when the first waft filled his senses, he was enthralled. His heart sped up again, his ears started to ring and his fingers started to twitch as he clutched onto the scent card. With light behind his eyes, he met the pleasing ones belonging to the master of perfumes.

"Yes," he calmly said. Like a life long weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he was relieved. He had found what he was frantically searching for like the Holy Grail. "This is her."

The bald man smiled reassuringly and then abruptly snapped his fingers to get an associate to help Sirius with the purchase. Like a well respected Lord of the house, the associate was there at the man's side the second he called, grateful to do the bald man's sale.

Without a thought of the price, Sirius handed the man a few large bills in muggle money and collected his bag with a gracious thank you. He still hadn't figured out what it was about the man that alerted him to feel familiar, but he had a feeling.

"If you need me again, sir, ask for me by name, Rojas Dove."

"Thank you, sir. I do greatly appreciate this, you have no idea," Sirius added, before he turned to leave.

"Oh, but I do, Mr. Black. Remember, there is a little witch in every woman," Rojas Dove bowed his head once and left the counter.

That was it. Rojas Dove, "professor of perfume" at Harrods, was a wizard.

Sirius left the large department store with a slight bounce in his step. He had found the exact same scent that he remembered Hermione wearing all those years ago. So long ago, he remembered kissing her earlobe and taking in the sweet aroma that was her fragrant skin. Over her wrist, around her neck, in her hair, it seemed to intoxicate him in his youth when they would stay up worshiping each other like two Gods creating the universe.

He clutched the Harrods bag under his arm, thinking of the small black bottle and how he was going to give it her. After all, he didn't intend on keeping it. No, that would be strange and slightly off. He had every intention of giving it to her as an added birthday present. For a moment, he hoped she liked the perfume. Of course she would, she was wearing it when she was around him and that's why he reacted to it the way he did…because she wore it…because…_HE _gave it to her!

Sirius immediately stopped on the busy sidewalk, having felt like he was hit by the Knight Bus. Everything around him continued, but his own mind had just ceased to move forward. His hearing went numb, his skin felt sensitive and he had just experienced his own sudden realization that the reason she wore the perfume around him, was because he had given it to her as a present. Meaning, all that time he was with her, it was really his older self that had planted the memory of her scent in his brain. Because of this very day in the future.

Finally, the bustling of the crowds around him started to melt into his senses again and he remembered that he was amongst the muggles. Quickly, he shook out his shoulders, gave himself a smile and prepared for whatever was going to happen in the, hopefully, distant future…for the past.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sirius watched Hermione's lips move, but he only heard half of what she said as she gently sipped her cup of tea, smelling of orchid blossoms and jasmine. He felt like his inner clock was ticking away, counting the seconds before her memories were filled with visions of the two of them dancing together at his cousins house.

"Sirius? Did you even hear what I said?" she said, watching him intently.

"Yes, my dear," he covered. "I heard every angelic word that left your sweet mouth."

Hermione's eyes bulged just slightly, having been caught off guard with the unusual answer from him. Remus heard it too and cleared his throat, breaking the new tension in the room that had been built up in a matter of seconds. Without Hermione noticing, he too stared intently at Sirius, to have him behave when in her company.

"Excuse me?" Hermione smiled, adding a little color to her cheeks over such a remark.

Sirius blinked a few extra times, once he realized what he had said and immediately, he corrected himself but covered with a charm he once knew how to work. "Sorry love, old habits, you know."

Hermione was still silently fixated on the older wizard. Hearing him say such a thing to her was not something she was used to, but for some reason it was not unsettling in her. In fact, for about eight seconds she almost wished Remus wasn't there, in order to encourage him more, but it wasn't expected of her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

One Year Earlier

Hermione Granger was running back and forth from chemistry room to chemistry room in the Department of Mysteries. It had been a long time coming, five years in fact, but now as an outstanding employee of the Ministry in a particular area that even the most gifted wizards and witches would lose their mind in, she was studying something that had plagued her since a most traumatic moment in many peoples' lives.

Starting out as nothing but a personal project, Hermione sought out to find the "open door" to the Veil. A life's work for many, it was only a year's worth of research for a bright young witch. Upon discovering this tidbit of information, Hermione began work on an experiment that might be able to take back those that had fallen. It had already been proven that the Veil was not an immediate death sentence, but merely a door to something incredibly unknown. After petitions upon contracts, through various means of extracting a prisoner in Azkaban that had been condemned for life, twenty year-old Hermione Granger led the experiment.

The oversized room with the gravel floors and archway leading to nothing, was filled with doctors and research agents on deck, along with a reporter from both the Quibbler and Daily Prophet to capture the moment if they were successful. Hermione stood by without any hint of an expression; she was just offering the last elixir to Walden Macnair. He kicked about and cried out that what was about to be done to him was inhumane, but his pleas were ignored and unanswered.

A darker side of Hermione revealed itself as she ducked out of the way a third time from his biting rotted teeth, as she injected his arm with a Imperious liquid to do what he was told. She was ready to slap the formally known executioner, but held stiff, brushing the stray wisps of hair out of her face from the bundled mess that she had wrapped up in a clip.

"You owe this to us, you coward!" Hermione practically hissed. "Now you're going to do something good for the wizarding community. You should consider yourself lucky that you were picked for this privilege to see the light of day!" She checked his final vitals to see that the potions taken were responding correctly. He just snarled at her like a rabid animal from the confines of his chains. Two orderlies stood by for everyone's protection.

"You'll feel pain, bitch!" he growled, but was quickly beginning to feel the loss of control of his own body and his own words. In a weakness, he started to get dizzy and fell down into the chair that was placed behind him.

Hermione smirked from the side of her mouth as she checked off the last mark on her clipboard. He was coming along nicely, for a cowardly murderer. She remembered him threatening her in that very room, her friends running and falling into the oversized room that the Veil was first seen by her eyes. She circled him like a caged tiger, hearing her feet scrape the gravel floor and watching his sunken eyes look up at her with hatred.

She couldn't resist the tease and she leaned over, "If all doesn't go well for you, Macnair, I hope death comes to you swiftly."

His mind was quickly escaping him, his body numb to the touch and soon he heard only her voice reciting instructions for him to follow in only a matter of minutes. His guilty eyes looked ahead of him at the flowing black curtain under the archway. He, himself, remembered seeing it for the first time when they were in there five years earlier. How he fought nobly with his comrades for something he knew, deep down in his cold black heart, was the right way. Sadly, he was defeated and taken to Azkaban like so many others.

Surrounded by several onlookers, the secret was kept throughout the Ministry to other departments, in case the place was raided. To some, it was a little inhumane to send a man to his death, but because of the charges he had against him due to the nature of his crimes, it was also justified to allow him to possibly be the first man to come back out of the Veil alive.

Hermione had worked on this project for over a year, that the moment when it all became a reality to the pushing quills and parchment signings, it was nearly as exciting as landing on the moon. Well, maybe not that much, but it was still a feat to overcome and Hermione was beaming with excitement to believe that she may be able to rescue so many tortured souls that had crossed over "behind the curtain" in error or by mistake.

One of her strongest queries was how they would look. If the Veil was, essentially, a door to the next level, then would they still look the same? If they weren't in the "real world", would they still age? Aging and growing old was a factor of earth, of the present life, which made her conclude that this was going to be all a big sleep for them and they would return just as they went in.

Then the question of how would they come out? In the same order that they went in? What if people from hundreds of years ago were still waiting to come back out of it? So many more mysteries would be solved. So many answers were to be given and above all else, loved ones would come back.

She didn't tell Harry. In the event that this didn't work, she did not want to give up his hope that his beloved godfather might not come back. The pain of all of it would be too much to handle a second time and as much as she loved Harry like a brother, she couldn't do that to him. So, she did this alone. Without her best friends, without members of the Order and just with her own research team.

The ancient room seemed so much smaller now, when not at the mercy of Death Eaters. At first, the room with the mysterious archway frightened her a little, but the more she worked around it, it became second nature to walk by and stare up at it and it's brilliant structure. Before her research began, she would scribble questions about the Veil, different formulas about potions that would protect anyone who went in with the intention of coming back out.

She was about to make history.

"All right everyone, ready?" Hermione announced, taking out her wand from the inner pocket of her white lab coat. Like a conductor preparing for an orchestra, several other wizards and wizards followed her lead and took out their wands, to be ready. "On my command!"


	3. Back From the Veil

_A note from Serade Black: Just a quick note to say that this chapter is still one year earlier (where the last chapter ended). Thank you so much for the strong reviews, they're wonderful. I truly appreciate all your words. Enjoy. SB_

Chapter 3

"Back from the Veil (still one year earlier)"

Like an industrial library, the archaic room fell silent at the cold sound of Hermione's voice. Pulse rates rose, quills dictated and the wispy curtains that fell under the Veil like thin silky netting even slowed down their excitement.

The brunette witch had mentally transformed. She was concentrating on her mission and the goal she so badly desired to achieve. Like blood on her tongue she could taste the iron fear that swept through the air, representing all those that had done battle there in her youth and those that had met their untimely early death due to errors, accidents and punishments.

Hermione spoke an incantation and Macnair slowly stood hypnotized at her command. Like a broken rag doll, his arms flopped to his sides, his body moved against his wishes and he relieved a menacing growl to vocalize how disgruntled he was over this entire ordeal. His chains were freed by the two orderlies, knowing full well that Hermione had complete control by the flick of her wrist and the guidance of her wand. He appeared like his body was filled with sawdust as he moved sluggishly like a free zombie.

Made with many magical woven fabrics, a rope with steel fibers was tied like a harness around the front of the prisoner. It was to be used to anchor him to the living side of the Veil and at the slightest tug; Macnair would be yanked back from dark unknown abyss. The objective was for him to take along any souls that had remained right behind the tattered fabric, rescuing them and taking them along to return to the real world.

The echoing voices seemed to be louder than ever before as sensitive ears heard the calls and conversations through the stone archway. Closer and closer Macnair crept to the sweeping black curtain, unknowing what was behind it. Like ill milk settling in his stomach, the former Ministry executioner felt uneasy, nervous and overall sickened with the mirror of his own death. He could not stop, he couldn't even argue with the young brunette that controlled him like a marionette. He looked down and watched as his numb legs moved along the crumbling floor and felt the sweat over his brow trickle down the bridge of his crooked nose. In the distance, a small mouse scurried away as if knowing the terrible outcome once they would attempt to "jerk" someone back out.

Finally, the Death Eater passed through, causing a serious pulsing in Hermione's ears. Her eyes blinked, her lips parted and she waited with heavy anticipation. "Watch that rope!" She commanded her wand at the ready and standing about thirty feet from the mystery curtain. "There! Retract!" she yelled. The golden stiff rope had indeed made a move and with four wands aimed at it, she pulled it back with great force.

Macnair's limp body flew out from behind the curtain, collapsing in a heap on the cold damp floor; the rope was tied to his waist like an anchor. He lay unconscious, but the twitching of his fingers reaching for his forehead indicated that he still lived. He moaned under his breath, less threatening than a growl.

Hermione raced to his side with half a dozen research agents in tow. Each one had a medical tool out, testing him for his stats, removing hair samples from his legs and retightening the rope to ensure that they would not lose him. Hermione dusted off a bit of debris over his shirt that was picked up by his heavy exit and leaned over to survey him herself.

"Macnair, what did you see?" Her voice was not merciful.

He squint his eyes painfully and blinked like one does after seeing the sun when hidden away for long durations. Finally, his sight was coming back to him and his head wavered like a drunk. His legs were in a mangled position due to the way he was pulled back out with such force; he had small scrapes on his skin that were beginning to bleed.

"You almost broke my legs, bitch!" He snapped with anger, now that he could see the young brunette leering over him.

"It might be unethical, but at least you're still alive. Now, tell me what you saw!" Hermione threatened the guilty man. She had finally touched on the outskirts of a historical breakthrough and she wasn't about to take any slack from a man who's former hobby consisted of killing illegal beasts.

"People, witch. Lot's of our kind," he managed to grumble. His lip developed into a slow sneer like he'd smelled something foul.

"What were they doing?" Hermione pressed on, periodically glancing over at the Veil to see if it had changed at all. Instead, it still blew lazily by a mysterious wind from the other side.

"Waiting, it looked like. Some sleeping, crying, I don't know, waiting."

Hermione stared so hard at the criminal, it was almost as if she was trying to extract his visions, but that was not her talent. With a firm grip on her wand, she yanked him up off the ground with a ferocious flick of her wrist and dragged him back towards the billowing mystery. The research team immediately backed away with how fierce her eyes were as she barely allowed the specimen to stand on his own two feet.

"All right, Macnair, we can get this done quickly. Go in there and start grabbing people and drag them out kicking and screaming if you have to," Hermione instructed. Her wrist was held high and with a spotting hand, she shoved him back behind the Veil with such force, she never touched him.

She stared at the ancient archway leading to nothing. Dark shrouds of death danced listlessly before her, hypnotically luring her towards their mystery. Her eyes glanced down at the rope that laid still, no sign of movement. Macnair had been behind there for a full two minutes, so far.

Finally, Hermione saw the rope move, then again, then more fiercely and she was commanding her team to act swiftly. Aiming her own wand, she grasped her commanding wrist and pulled back with the beam like she was pulling a big fish out of a lake. Her hair had come completely loose from the bun and it fell wildly around her shoulders.

With a uniformed pull, Macnair came stumbling out from behind the curtains with four staggering bodies that writhed around breathless and blinded by the light. Their voices tried to call out, but they sounded hoarse and worn out. Their skin was pale and light, like one does when not receiving the nutrients from the sun. Overall, they appeared to be in decent health, but she noticed that they reached out for something and when they caught a bit of Macnair's leg, they appeared comforted, like human contact was what they longed for.

Hermione's mouth remained open as she watched the witches and wizards warming up to such a beast, that it pained her to believe that however long they'd been trapped in there dying to come out, they were living an afterlife of loneliness. They were sated just by the research team members running to assist them, placing hands on their pale faces, cooing them that they were back and that they were safe.

Like a shot, Hermione flicked her wrist before Macnair even got to his feet and tossed him back behind the Veil as if time was racing against them. Her hair fell in her face, her pulse raced and she could feel her heart pumping through her throat. A minute later, the rope tied to Macnair was moving again and he was abruptly pulled back, this time with three people.

Two of the new Returned tried to stand up on their own, but immediately collapsed from exhaustion. Hermione requested that they be taken to hospital, rather than beginning tests for the lab. Overall, they appeared to be fine, but just like Macnair they were all trying to focus on their vision and reached out to the person next to them. It appeared that they desired contact from someone. Once touching another's hand or arm, they would shrill with happiness that they were no longer alone.

Like a manic scientist, Hermione was driven with the number of people they could pull out of there. There was no time to rejoice in her discovery, because to her, time was of the essence. Flashbulbs went off around her, Quick Quotes Quills soared around her head hoping to catch something brilliant muttering from her lip and her research team worked too fast to stop and talk to the press.

Two, sometimes five at a time would hold onto Macnair as he retreated from the Veil. Hermione's arm was working overtime as she'd call the commands on when to yank the Death Eater out and how hard to drive him back through. Like a short chain gang, he would come barreling out, shake the bodies off of him and then go running in like an American Football player on the front line.

As they worked, Hermione would quickly glance at all the faces, to see if she recognized anyone. Some had older clothes on, most had attire that matched this century, but all of them appeared unaged, untouched and unmoved. Young witches still wore detailed threads of their time, showing no wear or tear on either their clothes, or themselves; flawless skin kissed their pale faces.

After nearly two hours of driving the specimen beyond human control, the research staff, Macnair and Hermione were all beginning to feel the toll of the energy the experiment was draining from them. Several of the last few trips into the Veil, Macnair had come out empty handed, barking at the witch that no one else was around in the "waiting area". A few stragglers had come to investigate, he said, but then he gave them no time to ask and grabbed them so he wouldn't come out empty handed for the commanding brunette witch. The physical work was grueling enough, he wasn't about to try the lab coat witch, or else she'd put him up to doing something worse than rescuing people he remembered pushing in.

Out of all the hundred and fifty-two people Macnair single handedly dragged out from behind the Veil, only one face was familiar to Hermione. That face belonged to an old German janitor that disappeared about two years ago when she was just starting her work in the Department of Mysteries. She remembered him always offering her butterscotch muggle candy and reminding her not to tell anyone he had those, or else everyone would want one. No one knew where he went one night after his shift, but what pleased him more than anything was to see Hermione standing over him smiling and he reaching out to touch her face, calling her an "angel of the darkness".

Hermione smiled to herself upon hearing his broken English try to pronounce all those syllables through a voice that sounded like it hadn't drank water in years…or so he hadn't. It warmed her deep, but as she looked up at the sheer curtains ahead of her, Macnair on the floor by her feet, she still felt incomplete. Her heart still felt heavy and she felt like after all those people rescued that currently were coming back to life through different transfusions, she had not succeeded for personal reasons. Sirius was not one of the Returned.

Finally, Macnair had been yanked out from behind his draped enemy for the fourth time alone. He growled like an irritated lion over his state of exhaustion. He knew that his will was long gone to fight the potion that flowed through his blood and yelled over and over that the area he was pulling from was vacant, dark, and empty. Hermione refused to listen to him and flicked her wrist again, pulling his back straight with an invisible string. Her lower lip trembled and she knew he had to go on, even if his legs were bruised and bleeding from constantly being scraped along the gravel floor.

"Hermione, he's done," Said a fellow researcher. His hair was swept to the side and his breath panting from running back and forth between Hermione's commands and the new arrivals Macnair had brought them.

Hermione's drive for the mission shone through the outer exterior of a bright witch beyond her years. Her hair was completely loose from her clips, her face was flushed and she held her wand arm high like a conductor in the middle of a crescendo. She was beginning to get manic with numbers. There weren't enough people out, she kept saying, and like an uncontrollable machine she was ready to whip Macnair back into the Veil, even though he griped, complained and came back empty handed. Like fishing in a populated lake, it appeared that they were all done biting.

Hermione's lip quivered and she shook her head, staring at the flowing black cloaks, "No! I need more out, they need to get out!"

She felt her throat drying out from yelling about the room, but she felt so incomplete as she stood there in her dirty lab coat. The ancient archway was centuries old and all they were able to pull out where just over a seventy lost souls…and not the one she wanted. Not the man who represented this entire project in the back of her mind hindering like a gold medal about to be presented. A tiny thought in the back of her mind believed that if she could bring Sirius back, bring him back to Harry with a bow around his neck like a long awaited present, she could do anything. Thus, an entire year's worth of research was devoted to this piece of rock.

Nearly defeated after Macnair came back out, again, with no extra bodies, Hermione just watched him with a frown and a heavy heart. The sounds around the room were finally flowing into her ears, having gone on around her the entire time, but only now when she was smelling the sour scent of defeat did she hear the people sobbing. Turning her head slowly she saw a woman in a late fifties floral dress hugging a small child, dressed from the same period. Next to them a man sat alone, looking exhausted, with a slight smile over his lips as he just looked down at the ground. Their sobbing interested him and he reached out to place a hand on the woman's arm and she immediately stopped. They looked like polar differences, two different time periods and it was obvious they did not know one another. Once the man touched her, she slowly broke into a smile, turned to him and pulled her daughter closer as the three embraced like they were warming for heat. It appeared by just being touched, just being acknowledge that they were no longer lonely made all the difference to them.

She tuned in her sense of hearing towards anyone of the Returned having conversations amongst each other, curious to how they were viewing her kind. All were the same, extremely grateful, desiring nothing more than a hand to hold. One woman said that she was a bit bewildered at first, but once someone made contact with her, her vision cleared and she felt safe and warm.

A young girl with brown hair and freckles, about Hermione's age, was speaking to a researcher about the state of the "room" that Macnair was pulling them from and she stepped over slowly to hear her speak.

"No, the room is very dark and very very cold. It's like a weightless, empty void with no meaning. I never wanted to lose hope that I could get out, because I figured there was a way in. There were quite a few of us that waited for a long time, some several hundred years by the "opening", but nothing really happened. We only sensed that new ones were coming in," Laura was her name, as she spelled out her unusual last name for the researcher.

"Could you see anyone?" Hermione asked, approaching her like a fragile piece of glass that could shatter any moment.

"No, but you could hear voices. Sometimes you would hear the same voice for a long time, believing that you could touch them, but when you reached out, no one was there. Just voices everywhere."

"Why aren't there more of you? There has to be more in there," pressed Hermione.

"There are, but many of them go ahead and cross over," the girl reached out to Hermione. They reacted to touching another, like a baby to a pacifier. They would go for only so long, before they'd blink quite a few times and then reach for the nearest person, usually a stranger or researcher in a lab coat, sating themselves for minutes at a time. Taking it for granted, Hermione was happy to oblige such a minor gesture and knelt down closer to her to hold her outstretched hand. "Crossover…like going on. The Veil is, essentially, the gap between life and death; just some of us aren't ready to leave yet. Some of us go on, because they don't want to wait forever. No one has ever known anyone to come out, before. I heard this voice that yelled, made demands and reached out with strong rough hands and the next thing I know, I was yanked back here and for that…" Laura looked up at Hermione in the dirty lab coat, believing her to be a big part of whatever had just happened to her. "For that, I am grateful. Thank you."

Hermione just smiled shyly for the girl. There was nothing she could say, only hundreds of questions to ask, but she knew then was not the time. There were going to be plenty of others, just like Hermione, poking and probing her enough, the least she could do was make her feel welcomed again.

Slowly, she stood. She glanced a sly eye back over the Veil. Her upper lip grimaced, as if believing it was a battle between her and the shoddy pair of curtains that taunted her with the real apple she desired. Like staring at an impossible puzzle, Hermione was not finished. Not yet. Taking a deep breath, she refocused and held her wand arm up in the air once again and Macnair rose to his feet from the collapsed position he had left himself in. Her ears tingled, as if one of the voices she could still hear behind the Veil belonged to a barking laugh, taunting her to best it.

Sirius Black was not a quitter and she knew that if there was a rumor that some might come out; he would surely be disappointed if he wasn't the first one to do it. Like a moth to the flame, Sirius would always jump into the unknown adventure, fearless and stubborn. She didn't feel like he was amongst the angels and spirits, watching her make foolish mistakes. No, he was teasing the devil, biting his thumb in jest and smirking as he waited for a crack to show itself.

Hermione heard Macnair protesting another run, but this time he revealed a small glimmer of fear to the driven witch. She pushed the tip of her wand against his stubbly throat, careful not to poke him in the Adam's apple, but still violent enough that he knew she was very very serious.

"You go in there one more time and scream. I don't care what you do; you just better bring at least one more person out. You understand me?" A vein in Hermione's brow twitched and she changed faster than Jekyll and Hyde with red flashes in her eyes.

She had a feeling; she had a strong connection to whatever she felt was calling out to her. The voices could still be heard, but Macnair had said the area was empty. It chilled her skin to believe that if she could still hear the whispering, that meant there were still people fighting to come out. Unless, the voices that she heard were merely afterthoughts and what Macnair said had been true. Perhaps they even belonged to the souls that had crossed over.

With a magical shove, Macnair went stumbling back into the black abyss. The surrounding sounds began to drain out again and her eyes focused. Her wand arm flicked in the gesture that though he was already behind, she might force an extra push to him to reach out further.

Her eyes started to burn from keeping them open and she forced herself to blink. Light tears formed at the corners of her lashes, swallowing the knot in her throat hard. Her mouth felt like cotton as the anxiety tingled her skin with the anticipation of one more person coming out. Just one more missed soul whose family wanted to embrace him, love him, and look up to him.

Just like routine, the rope started to tug and pull and in a shot, Hermione called out for her subject to be pulled back out. She helped with the rope too, letting down her hold on Macnair and pulled with all her might like she was reeling in a big fish.

With a thud, Macnair came tumbling back out onto the stone floor. With a grunt, so did another dusty character. The two men groaned in agony, the Returned trying to stand on the front of his hands as the wind was knocked out of him the second he followed with the tethered one.

Hermione's face flushed, the tired tears inched their way down her heated cheeks and her heart raced with a flutter that could only mean success.

"Sirius!" Her whisper was loud to her.

In a shot, Hermione raced to the hovering man with the dark blazer, dark slacks and boots. His dark locks fell over his shoulders as he bowed his head from lifting himself off the floor and like a prisoner released from incarceration, he raised his face to the warming light. He was so well preserved from the way he went in, it was like he never aged a day.

She approached him carefully, unsure if he knew where he was. Seeing his face lifting to the sound of his whispered name, he squint his eyes, appearing like the light in the room was burning. His chest rose heavy, like after running a marathon, but it was the brink of emotions he was teetering on. Like all the others, he blindly reached out for someone, any kind of contact and Hermione was there. Catching her breath, she immediately touched his hand and he squeezed hard, with his other hand she gently placed it up on her cheek and her hand vice versa.

"Sirius," she whispered again. She swore she saw his lips quiver at the sound of his name, so she got closer as his hand released hers and ran up her arm like he was searching for more comfort. "Sirius, its Hermione."

Sirius's hands stilled over her upper arms and he affectionately squeezed her, unconsciously pulling her to him. Hermione opened her arms and pulled him to her tightly, feeling a free hand coming around to hold the back of her head to him as he nuzzled himself into her neck. He held her tightly, saying nothing, just holding her in his arms without any intention to letting go. He made a few small sounds, but his voice sounded like he hadn't drank for years…which he hadn't.

Mostly, he was quiet. But he chanced to run a hand over her cheek again, slowly opening his eyes for her. Chocolate brown eyes welcomed him like seeing an angel in the heavens and the corners of his mouth began to lift into a slight smile. Emotions welled up in his chest, too heavy to let go, but managed to allow a slight tear escape and slowly slide down his chiseled cheek.

"Hermione? It is you," he whispered gravely, staring into her eyes like he'd never seen her before. So rosy cheeked, so flushed, so absolutely beautiful. As cliché was it was, she was sincerely a sight for sore eyes.

For a moment, she forgot herself and reached up around his neck to hold him tighter as if to embrace him romantically. She was so elated to have him back; his cologne still lingered on his skin after all this time, that he immediately was her new favorite thing. He represented that gold medal after running the furthest distance. He was a walking, breathing, murmuring miracle that held her tightly in his arms, as if his life depended on it.

"Sirius, you're home!" She whispered to him.


	4. Temptation of a Staircase

_A note from Serade Black: In this chapter, for those that might be a little confused, is back to the present day. I apologize for the long delay between this chapter and the next, but I am still working out its outline and want to try and be as consistant with the continuity as I can. For those of you attending Portus (HP Symposium in Dallas) have an amazing time. I am not attending, but I will be at Terminus (HP Symposium in Chicago) this August. Cannot wait to cosplay and meet so many others, for it will be my 4th one in the HP Fandom. I was lucky enough to meet some of my readers in Phoenix, so I hope to meet some of you in the coming months. Enjoy. SB_

Chapter 4

"**Temptation of a Staircase"**

With a brighter paint job, new carpeting, completely restored chandeliers, polished silver, ornate lanterns, refurnished bedrooms the size of a two car garage, a bathroom you could house a small quidditch team in, replaced magical portraits and a seemingly endless supply of Fire Whisky in the wine cellar, Sirius Black moved back into his hated childhood home.

The house still had that old eerie feel like eyes were watching your every which way, following you and watching over your shoulder, should you be doing nothing more than itching a scratch on your arm. The same dripping torches hung in the hallway leading up to the kitchen like a doomed mile walk to the gallows. On the other hand, the thorough gutting that had gone on while he was away had made a difference in its general overall appearance; it was just the sounds of the haunting whispers that plagued the shunned son of the Noble House of Black. Guilt always weighed heavy on him, and that was why now he still feels slightly uneasy.

The house was already inhabited by Remus, making him his new housemate. Harry had long since moved out and shared with Ginny in a garden flat in Earl's Court; just a brief apparation away.

The Order meetings hadn't changed their location, all important business of raids, Ministry conspiracies, current events, muggle news and a nice warm bowl of Irish stew was all taken care of on the ancient oak table that was impounded into the concrete flooring of the brain of the house; the kitchen. With Victorian china stacked in cupboards and mismatching tea cups hanging around the kettle, it was far from the glory that it once held. Nowadays, the kitchen was more hodgepodge, with it's collection of silver, cutlery and cookbooks that Molly often left for the "bachelors" that used to reside in the house, before Ginny coax Harry into moving their relationship to the "next level".

Remus was still only courting Tonks at this stage and though she tended to stay over more and more often, it still was not elected that she move in entirely. The couple, though very much in love, still had some issues to overcome, but mostly they were Remus's issues.

Like two mature long time friends, Sirius and Remus sat in the sitting room together, catching the latest one on the current status of their circle of knowns. Remus sat comfortably in a velvet lined chair with wooden claw feet as Sirius slumped like a wilting blanket on a settee looking like a lonely child. He had just been given the absolute latest news on Hermione, her status, her position, and worse, her age.

"Sorry friend, she is only twenty," Remus broke the news gently to Sirius. All was discussed about Harry, the Order, the war, Dumbledore and in the end, Sirius rounded the conversation about his past.

"You would have thought, Remus. The way she looked at me, the way she held my hand, it was all so…so, convincing," he said in a quiet voice. You could hear the sound of hurt as he barely made those words out, once he realized how far she was from him.

The fire crackled in the room as it devoured the firewood. The ancient grandfather clock ticked away in the sitting room that Sirius and Remus had found comfort in with the raining storm outside. All the visiting guests had left, in order for Sirius to get some rest, but he was not in the mood to go to sleep. Instead, the two long time mates sat down for a chat, with Sirius asking the non polite questions, requiring the honest truth.

"She made that Veil her work for over a year and I'm pretty sure she had just you in mind to rescue. But, I don't believe it was in any romantic sense. She just wanted you back for Harry, for me, for just the sake of getting you back. I'm sorry to disappoint you that she has no idea, yet."

"It's very frustrating Remus. To watch her these last couple of years, not do anything and then to come back and she's all grown up, looking exactly how she did when we were together," said Sirius. It was evident that he still felt so far away from what he wanted. "And with Ron for that matter." Sirius sneered a disgusted lip at the vision. He liked the young man, but it was something else to believe that she was otherwise smitten with anyone else at the time.

"Well, she seems happy. They're not the affectionate types together, so I guess that is hopeful," said Remus with a longing look over at the crackling fire.

Still slightly pouting like a petulant child, he truly did care about every thing else that had happened in the last five years. He wasn't being too insincere, but being gone, being in Azkaban, they were all things that had taken up most of his life. The only thing that kept him going through it all, were the hopes of seeing that young pretty face again. But, just as he thought when he first re-met her when she was thirteen in the shack, it was all made very clear.

"Funny, I do remember her reluctance back then," Sirius mused.

"How so? You mean with you? "

"Yes. It took me a long time to break her down," Sirius thought back fondly. His voice had an edge of arrogance, "In the end, there was no fighting."

Ah," Remus nodded, as if finally uncovering those difficult times with the two of them. "That's right. Now that you mention it, I do remember you whining to James about-"

"I never whined," Sirius interrupted a little ruffled.

Remus gave a light chuckle as if their nostalgic reminiscing was bringing back a bit of his former self. "You did sound like a lovesick pup, in those days."

Sirius just stared at the fine fiber of the throw rug under his feet. "Well," he began, "Can you blame me?"

Remus was silent at first, looking back at Sirius like a young son. "No, my friend. She changed you for the better."

Sirius gave his friend a small slight smile to appreciate his comment. However, it did not change things presently as they sat alone, just the two of them, like they used to before he left for the Veil. Alone in the house, like two men without a future, unsure of where their lives were going to take them. At least Remus had Tonks, now.

"Well, the good thing is, you've saved those five years and are a little closer in age."

Sirius rolled his eyes at his long time friend, "Meaning?"

"You're still thirty-six, mate." said Remus with a smug chuckle.

Sirius gave a passive grin to humor Remus. Though it was a very good point, it didn't help his longing.

Sirius Black was impossible to ignore. With his loud bark laugh, the room was immediately charmed by his presence. It took nearly two weeks before he was back to his normal, stubborn, opinionated, arrogant self. Order meetings were back in swing with debates back and forth between him and Snape. It was as if he never left, though he was reminded how much he was missed. Whenever Hermione would inform him of the same news, he wished that when she smiled at him with those tempting pink lips and pretty brown eyes that she didn't look upon him so platonically. It was almost painful when she'd touch his hand, or his arm or if when they were sitting side by side, if her leg rubbed up against his by accident. She was like fire to him and it burned him deep whenever they made contact. But, he would never have her stop giving him any form of affection. She'd taken to greeting him with kisses on his cheek, the same as Remus, and he started to respond with a very grateful back of the hand kiss. Nothing insinuated, just a very appreciative gesture that she had rescued him from his black torture. Again.

One night after an Order meeting, a twin had instigated a bit of late night shots from a lonely Fire Whisky bottle that happened to be "discovered" somewhere in the kitchen. The rest of the Order members had since vacated the house, uninterested in the liquefied sport, cherishing the health of their own livers.

Sirius, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Fred, George, Ron, Luna, Tonks and Neville all sat around the wooden table, shots in front of them like a ceremonial token. Fred had control of the bottle for everyone, being centrally located to all the drinkers. Remus leaned casually against the counter, trying to not look interested, but he gave Tonks a side glance as she crinkled her nose at the putrid smell of the liquor.

Sirius had already put back about three tall shots like he was sipping away pumpkin juice, without one twitch of an eyebrow. He was introducing his godson, his beautiful best friend and the rest of the table the simple drinking game called, "Never have I ever…" It was a lot like the game truth or dare, but each person would sit around the table and start a shot, "Never have I ever….ridden a thestral," and whomever had done the deed, took a shot, thus skeletons in their closets would be revealed. At times, probably more information than anyone wanted to know, but it was in good fun.

"Never have I ever," started Ron, "lied about my age in order to be served in a pub!"

In a row, all but Luna and Hermione took their shots. The guilty faces looked around with wide Cheshire grins, not surprised at all who was guilty. Although, some gasped mouths gawked at Neville who sat there with a smirk.

"Me Gran was very hard to live with sometimes," he smiled. "I needed to get away at times."

"Never have I ever," Luna began, "run naked through Hogsmeade after midnight."

Luna took her shot as the rest of the table just stared at her, amazed, and yet not surprised at the same time. Next to Harry, a shot glass was slammed down hard on the wooden table. Harry glanced over at his godfather, who was licking his lips from the burning liquid and looking back at him with a bored expression. Hazily, he looked around at everyone else.

"Who's next?" he said simply.

It was Ginny's turn to take the shot and she smiled as she lifted her shot glass, or glasses as she probably saw by now, and took a deep breath. "Never have I ever," she began, nodding to Sirius, "Had a crush on Sirius Black!" She tipped the amber liquid back to slide down her warm throat as Sirius watched on with a smug half grin.

Two spaces over, he watched the guys chuckling manly and then setting their glasses down to downright refuse that dare, but it was Hermione that took him off-guard. She proudly smiled, raised her glass to Sirius and knocked it all the way back, shivering in the aftermath. The guys had a good old laugh about that one, not at all surprised by Ginny who had a crush on many guys in her Hogwarts days, but blown away by Hermione.

After a few jabs from the twins, Hermione just buttoned her lip and ignored any questions about anything she was asked. She looked down at the table, over at Remus, up to the ceiling, over at the blue dragon china sitting on the hutch or to Hedwig hooting away on the window sill and finally back to her own politely folded hands on the table in front of her.

Sirius shushed everyone around after setting down his own glass, "Wait, wait, I want to hear this!" He motioned everyone to silence as he egged her on, "When was this? It was when I first came back, wasn't it? You were a sucker for a guy with grimy teeth, matted hair and fleas, right?"

"Oh, Sirius you set the scene so well," she mocked. "No, it was from that first Christmas here at Grimmauld. I think it was the way you took to Harry that, I don't know…I'm all embarrassed now!" She shook her head, downright self-conscious with everyone teasing her. She flailed her hands in the air, "My turn!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

That was a year ago, to this day. Just like that, the subject was closed. It was never revisited again, nothing was said, nothing was done, and he only heard of it that one time. That little moment was what gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, she might consider him here and now. However, for the time being, he would remain to himself. Locked up in his own mental prison like a dying lonely breed. But, then again, he had a knack for breaking out of prison.

"You know better, Sirius!" Remus shouted at Sirius in a life threatening tone. His eyes were ablaze, the small veins in his neck were stressed and you saw the hint of a canine tooth baring itself as he vocalized his fury to his friend. "You're pushing the envelope too far and you need to step back and look carefully at what you are doing. You're only hurting yourself in this matter and you're better off-"

"Better off, what? Having my own wank?" Sirius barked back. His hair was to his shoulders, uneven and wild. He met his friend's eyes with sincere frustration.

"Backing off. You're too close to her and she's liable to-"

"Back off? Maybe this is the reason she went back in the first place. Perhaps it was something I did now, in this time that provokes her to go back for whatever reason. You don't even know that."

Remus shook his head, defeated and exhausted from having what seemed like a row every night for the last month. Since her birthday, Sirius has sat a little too close to her, kissed her hand for a second too long and blatantly flirted with her so much in front of Ron, that it nearly caused a rift between the two men. Ron had suspected something and called Hermione out on it. She denied anything, so far as to tell Ron that she wasn't interested in Sirius for a second, due to Harry's sake. Hence, risking any of her future thoughts.

0o0o0

Ron and Hermione's relationship had gotten very very tense and in the end, it was concluded that the two made much better best friends than lovers. Before the situation got ugly, it was decided that Hermione move out of Ron's flat and back out on her own. In the transition, however, Hermione got her things and moved into one of the many massive spare rooms at Grimmauld Place, until her search found her something suitable.

Many times, Sirius insisted that she stay with them in the house at no cost to her. He stressed to her that her presence in the house was much appreciated, especially on full moon nights when he didn't join Remus on his monthly jaunt.

Touched by his offer (not catching the sour frown on Remus's face over how obvious his best mate was being) her eyes were finished with watering tears. Her controlled curly tendrils shook around her angelic face of soft velvet skin like the hypnotic curtains of a museum in a light wind. Faint tears were cascading down her rose cheeks over the ridiculous argument she had with Ron.

"No, it'll do me good to be back on my own," she said. "I think I could really use a vacation by myself, while I'm at it. Perhaps, in time, him and me….I don't know."

Her words about her gaining her independency fell upon deaf ears. Like his lunch revisiting him again, he was disgusted with the suggestion that they might get back together. She and Ron, that is.

Trying to feign support, he shrugged his shoulders and put a hand on her arm, "If its fate, then you can't control it."

Sirius was speaking, of course, of himself with her in mind. But, it was probably too bold for him to even cross that line. He'd already done enough with offering his house as a permanent home for her, and though he wasn't told, he was the sole reason for her initial break-up with Ron.

By learning all of this, it prompted Remus's otherwise quickly heated, but concerned, conversation. He was just apprehensive that Sirius was acting too quickly on Hermione, for it wasn't just a matter of her age, it was her current state of mind. Her age only told them when she went, not how or why. He was gravely concerned for his friend's brief few months of happiness that, at this rate, might have been jeopardized. Hermione had broken many rules by using the Time Turner and though she was tight lipped about many things back then, the course of events have probably already rippled enough.

"You know what, Remus? Perhaps I'll just back off from everyone! Her, you, Harry, the lot of you," Sirius spat. He turned on his heel to leave the kitchen, stomping up the stairs loud like an elephant on a stampede. "You're all getting to be a huge pain in my arse, anyway!"

Sirius pushed himself out the kitchen door, nearly trampling his godson in the hallway. Like a lantern becoming alight in a dark forest, Harry's smile brightened the, otherwise, gloomy room. Sirius paid no attention to him, passing him over as if he, too, was as insignificant and grabbed his jacket from the rack by the door and slammed the old oak with such force it jolted the nearby portraits. The occupants of the frames stood in protest, fixing up their own settings of fruit baskets, curtains or riding brooms.

Harry just stood there, stunned. Never before had he been neglected by Sirius. There was never a time in having him back, either this time or the one previous, that he was every passed over without a greeting, an invite for a pint or even a pat on the shoulder. As Harry looked on, the portraits still bickering and composing themselves, he felt as if life had left the room around him and the home was again, vacant.

A month went by and Sirius gave the feeling that he wasn't "there". Like a stiff shadow of nothing, he barely said a word to anyone in the house. He moped in private over a broken heart, but only Remus knew why he was withdrawing himself. For each day that went by, that Hermione remained unchanged and platonic, was another day into loneliness without her. He only wanted to talk to her about what all had transpired, he didn't expect her to have him. Though, it pained him to think that after all these years, for as long as his heart held onto her, he dreaded living the rest of his life not knowing what it felt like to kiss her lips once more. Several nights, he'd lie awake, knowing that when he kissed her hand upon a greeting before an Order meeting, it meant nothing to her. No more than that receiving a kiss on the cheek from Harry, Remus, Charlie or her own father. He was only her amicable friend that offered her a good row over politics, a stiff shot of Fire Whiskey and someone that overheard how failed experiments went awry.

The pang in his heart clenched his innards like someone had knocked the air out of him and he was forced to live with that feeling. The content emptiness, always lacking that closure or emotional completion took him prisoner and doomed him to a depression he was quickly sinking into. Longing to be someone that mattered, someone that counted, he was beginning to wish that none of it happened the way it did.

The constant torment of watching her blossom into the beautiful young witch he was enamored with all those years ago was almost too much to bear. He still remembered saying good-bye to those chocolate brown eyes, silky spun tendrils and warming embrace before he went to go and check on James and Lily that fateful Halloween night. Once apprehended, guilt sunk into him as he yelled that he was framed, cursed Peter Pettigrew, cried out Hermione's name in agony and begged that he be freed due to the false charges. In a flash he'd lost his life, his brethren, his family, his hope, the love of his life and anything to live for and thrown into a dark wizard prison to only think of his wrongful crime.

He held no pictures of her while he wasted away, he only imagined her getting on with her life, but still being haunted by the frightening pictures that accompanied stories of him being the most dangerous man. Surely, she couldn't have believed them, but why did she not ever visit him while in Azkaban? Why was she not helping him fight the case, tear down the posters, rewrite the stories, help prove his innocence after professing her love for him?

Because she wasn't there.

Sirius started to take his meals alone. The torment of seeing Hermione around the house was getting more and more difficult and when he could no longer have conversations due to the threat of it being misconstrued as flirting, he no longer wanted to see anyone.

Day by creeping day, he'd felt more and more listless and lethargic. His motivation to do anything more was driving him down, since he anticipated every day to be the day she'd come to him and tell him she knew, but it was every day until then that would go by discouraged. He no longer found late nights after Order meetings with an old bottle of Fire Whiskey interesting. He preferred to drink the burning liquid alone, allowing himself slow torture. He would allow his imagination to get away with him on many of his long walks alone in the London suburbs, winding up and down each family populated street with the hope of someday she coming up to him from a long panting run that she wanted to be with him. But, as his feet carried him back to familiar spots with no changes, like returning home, his vacant void of a heart tuned it all out. Tuned out the Order, his housemates, his loving godson, her, Voldemort…everyone. He just didn't care.

Finally, he was lured out by Hermione, but not on good terms. He was getting himself ready for a long night out. If he hooked up with a witch, it was good for him enough to occupy him until something better came along. He opened his door to the gentle wrappings of a timid hand and when he swung it open with his jacket laying over his arm, he waited to see what the first words were going to be out of her mouth to judge whether it was good news, or news he didn't care about.

He didn't greet her; he only looked at her anxiously, waiting for her to speak. His arms were open, leaning himself against his own door frame, his dark locks framing his face with that chiseled jaw that defined him as noble blood. Though he tried to hide it at times, he still couldn't get away from the aristocrat in him that was often mistaken for arrogance.

"We have to talk," she began, looking up at him with worried eyes.

Immediately, Sirius's heart was about to jump out of his tattooed chest. While throbbing furiously, his stomach started to twirl within and his breath became erratic in a silent state. His hands clenched the doorframe for life and for a moment, with the hopeful twinkle in her eyes, he believed that this was the moment he was waiting for. The way she looked up at him adoringly, could possibly be the moment he had waited for twenty years. All his senses were keen on her, his ears were perked, his eyes intense and his hands gripped the wood so fiercely hat he could have probably broken the door off the hinges with his insane moment of strength.

Then, the heavens opened up before him and he felt the hair on the back of his neck lift the second she spoke. "How could you bail on Harry?"

Sirius sighed heavy like an irritated bear. He pushed passed her, slamming his bedroom door shut and setting off swiftly for the stairs.

"Sirius, I have to say, that was probably the most selfish move you've made yet. Your godson, your "son" just got engaged and you didn't even have the decency to meet him for a pint?"

He waved his hand in the air to her, as if he were impatiently swatting a fly away. "Hermione, I've got things on my plate right now. In a few days, I'm sure I'll come around and I'll make it up to him," Sirius groaned under his breath. He was halfway down the stairs when he felt her following close behind him, hoping to get all of his attention.

"You always say you'll make it up to him and quite frankly, I don't think it's good enough. You've abandoned him, you ignore Remus, you do nothing at the Order meetings, Snape even noticed -" She went on running down the list of things he did wrong, sounding like an ungrateful mother.

Sirius stopped abruptly on the fourth stair on the case and turned around on her with eyes blazing. "I don't give a damn what Snape thinks-"

"Fine, then stop being such a recluse!" She never gave him time to finish and immediately snapped back. "Harry is the closest thing to a son you have!"

"Thank you for reminding me of my pathetic life and how I've done nothing in it, Miss Granger!"

"Stop making yourself out to be worthless. No one knows why you're doing this, Sirius. Not me, not Remus, not Harry, nobody! What is wrong with you?"

"If you only knew Hermione," he said it as if he was staring through her. For a second, her defense faltered as if she'd finally nailed it on the head. "If you only knew what I knew," he said sardonically, as if to try and have one over on her. He was infuriated with passion as she fought with him.

"Then tell me! You are abandoning your friends and all that are important to you. We're your family and you treat us like we're vermin!"

He turned a cold shoulder on her and finished down the stairs. The wrong things to say teetered on the tip of his tongue like a mantra and if he didn't walk away then, he was going to blurt something out he was going to regret, or worse, ruin. His temper was flaming higher than that of a ship's boiling room and looking at her and the way her lips puckered when she furrowed her brow was overpowering his libido. Hearing her verbal flames was making his blood hot and it was all he could do to not grab her, shove her up against the wall with brute force and kiss her the way he darkly wanted to.

"Sirius, don't do this!" she begged as she reached out for him before he was off the staircase completely. Her last desperate move, as if his salvation depended on it.

"Hermione, no more. Leave me alone!"

"You can't bail on him! Sirius, Harry needs you!"

Like a violent animal coming out from within, he spun around upon her touch and pressed her hard against the wall like he envisioned. He was so sudden, that he saw her breath escape her with a hint of fear in her eye. She made a small sound when she hit the wall with a mild thud and looked up at him with her lips parted and her breath an erotic light pant.

"Do you need me?" he whispered seductively. His eyes intense, hypnotic, and blazing. She blinked three or four times, absolutely mesmerized and passionately turned on, because he recognized that look on her face before.

His voiced sounded like liquid sex on her ears. It was almost undefined. Fearful, she managed a white flag and whispered, "We all need you."

Sirius's hand that held Hermione's shoulder back against the wall started to tremble with anger. Not so much towards her, as much as he was angry about his life. Having "known" Hermione and have her be totally oblivious to what was to come, frustrated him beyond words. He could not say anything, he could not convey any hints to her about what they had ahead of them and he was forced to live in his own mental prison alone.

He wanted to touch her soft flushed cheek with the back of his hand, but he knew it was too forbidden. He wanted to run his hands through her wavy locks, but it would be too obvious. He fought back the urge to ravish her with such a passionate kiss Casanova himself wouldn't compare. He desired to wrap his hands around her slender waist. He wanted to taste her creamy soft skin under his tongue and make love to her until he heard her say his name over and over into his ears. The hunger was getting too strong, he almost couldn't resist and in a shot he forced himself to pull away and leave her standing there.

It took a few seconds for Hermione to catch her breath after his weight was lifted off of her. Her bosom heaved as oxygen refilled her lungs and she was otherwise beside herself from the thick tension between them. The way he looked at her, was as if he was looking through her and his intense stare was so hypnotic, it was as if she'd never seen him before.

Guilt started to fill her mind, wrongful thoughts and strange feelings invaded her emotions. It was so unlike him. It was so unlike her. It was frightening to say, in all the years that she'd known him, or thought she'd known him, she was unbelievably, incredibly, most passionately aroused.


	5. Requesting the Time

_A note from Serade Black: As usual, I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters. I was doing a bit of outline reformatting and didn't want to get too far ahead and totally contradict myself. Regardless, here is the next installment. No further notes to say other than I have written the last 2 pages of this story - meaning, I know how I want it to end. It's a good feeling. I know I will have to complete it in order to get there, because, let's face it, I love your encouraging comments, reviews and theories. Please don't stop. On another note, for those going to TERMINUS in August - I will be there! SB_

Chapter 5

**_Requesting the Time_**

The shadows on the ceiling danced a rhythmic dance, using the curtains as a side show when the wind blew in from outside through the bedroom window. In the far distance, a dog could be heard barking at another passing by. A heavy car drove passed the house, unaware of the addresses going from number eleven to thirteen without blinking. The smell of orchids from the garden waft into the room like a soothing mist, settling on the bed linens to enchant a long slumber through the later hours.

Hermione sighed as she watched the shadow dance, momentarily thinking about the dog barking from one of the neighboring streets and wondering of it wasn't Sirius in his Padfoot form out for a stroll and meeting a playmate. Sighing, slightly exhausted with her mental ramblings, she turned over on her side and tried to hide her face away from the brisk midnight air, forcing herself to drift off finally.

For most of that evening, the altercation with Sirius plagued her to no end. The sound of his voice echoed through her head like a Chinese gong, repeating itself over and over again, trying to decipher if it was a plea for help or an offer she shouldn't refuse. Regardless, she had known the man since she was thirteen and now, as she lay in the guest bed of his house in her cotton thin nightdress enraptured by high count sheets of his wealth, she cursed herself for doubting his manners.

Hermione rolled back over to watch the second act of the shadow dance, her hand resting by her face where she would occasionally bite her finger out of nerves as she calculated their words to each other carefully like an intricate puzzle.

He was desperate, she could see that. But, his force on her when she was shoved up against the wall like a tortured maiden in distress asking to be ravaged was enough for her to forget Ron Weasley all together. _What was she thinking?_ This was insane! That wasn't the point!

The issue at hand was Sirius's progression into a darker character. Thinking back to herself, she concluded that his change started right after her birthday. Harry had told her that his godfather was beginning to spend his evenings alone. Often times, Harry said he would find Sirius outside in the garden, watching the stars or just swinging in the hammock on sunny afternoons. When asked about his solitude, he would answer with a cliché' thought, "Just thinking about the good times with your dad when we were younger." Occasionally, he'd change it up and add Remus's name just for flavor. It appeared that lately it seemed he was plagued with something stronger, something deeper and possibly darker than Harry was let on to.

Slowly, Sirius became that darker recluse that he was accused of being, but he denied it; said it would pass. Hermione was witnessing first hand the strained relationship of father and son, and it didn't settle well with her at all. The two grown men were both cheated out of so many years, they ought to know better and get on with the future. Remus was no stranger to it either, but whenever Hermione asked his opinion on Sirius's nature, he would just offer the same excuse that Sirius was entering a hard time in his life and he wasn't sure which way to go.

From the outside looking in, it appeared that a stranger sat in on the Order meetings and someone unrelated to the events was busy with anything else but what they were trying to beat. Something had to be done. Her best friend had just recently gotten engaged to Ginny and they all went out for a pint to celebrate (after the romantic dinner he first took her on to ask, of course) and Sirius wasn't around. He received the news by owl, Hedwig made sure of that, but Sirius did not respond and only answered with a congrats the next morning.

Hermione racked her brain of what could be done. _Legilimens _came to mind, but she really didn't want to involve Snape with any dealings with him. Torture would have been nice, after the pain he put his own godson through, but none of it seemed do-able. If only there was a way to go back and try to fix things before Sirius got "emo", but how was she to turn…back….time?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Hermione, what can I do for you today? This is an unexpected visit." Professor McGonagall sat at her large mahogany desk, letting her quill check over essays on transfiguring peanuts into lady bugs. Once in awhile, she'd take the quill and dip it in the ink to refresh and let it go on with checking the grammar, marking furiously.

"Professor, I've a favor to ask, but not sure if I should tell you what for. I know you're going to say no." Hermione's voice wavered a bit, but she held her chin proud and ready for defeat.

"Then why on earth are you meeting me? Try me," she said with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye.

"I need to borrow the Time Turner to help someone," she tested. "I don't know if I should say who, but I've thought about it long and hard and I don't think that I'll disrupt time in anyway, if I do it."

"Well, how far back do you plan on going for, Hermione?"

"Twenty years," she practically whispered into the curtain of curls that framed her face.

"TWENTY YEARS!" McGonagall whispered loudly and then looked about as if disrupting a library. "Why on earth for? Hermione, whatever reason that you feel you have to go back twenty years for, will most certainly disrupt the timeline. I don't recommend it."

"I know, I know," she understood. "It's just that it has to do with…Sirius."

"Well, Hermione, a lot has happened with Black and therefore, you really shouldn't go back and try to change anything about him. He has an incredible history and well, quite frankly, it must have been his destiny. I'm afraid you are asking to go back too far." McGonagall's voice was sympathetic, but strict.

"I figured as much. I wasn't even sure if I could go back and make any kind of impact on him, regarding this matter, but it was worth a thought. Believe me, I wasn't going back for curiosity's sake, it's just I feel he needs something in his life worth living for." Hermione explained, knowing what the answer was, but still felt compelled just the same to tell her former professor and Order member.

"He's got Harry, my dear."

"That's just it. He does have Harry, he's got Remus, he's got a slew of people around him that care, but it's what he's doing to himself now that is damaging the circle he lives in. I'm worried about him and unless something happens, I worry that he might just go off the deep end and I don't think anyone could handle that with him. We pulled him out of the Veil-"

"YOU pulled him out of the Veil," she corrected. McGonagall was giving credit where it was deserved.

"Thank you, but my point is that with that work completed, all those people have sort of turned into role models and for him to just "off himself" it would deem a wrong message."

McGonagall watched the young witch carefully. She could definitely tell that Hermione was concerned for him as a friend and comrade, and her choice of judgment was always a good one. Finally, the older witch with green robes said no more and opened the top shelf of her desk. She took out a golden necklace on a long chain with a very old looking time piece that held a small hourglass.

"Professor, are you sure?" Hermione asked timidly.

"I am. I've always trusted your judgment with many things, Miss Granger. Your devotion to your work is inspiring. I don't want to know anything further about what you plan on doing, but I will make myself quite clear when I say that you must not change the course of events."

Hermione stared intently on her former professor. Her neck looking extra strained in its high collar. The marble broach that she wore twinkled as she spoke with her wise older voice. An eyebrow curved and creased several wrinkles in her forehead.

"Harry is who he is, because of his parents. Therefore, you must not save them. Do not involve yourself with anything or anyone; keep a keen eye on everyone. It's important that you keep yourself safe, or you risk," McGonagall lowered her voice, as if speaking of the dead, "or else, you risk…your existence."

Hermione had never heard it put quite like that before and she suddenly found it slightly difficult to swallow. Like her ears were just opening up to the sound of classical music, it settled in her like a numbing bomb. Her Existence. Her lack of knowing what the future was like or worse, not having the people she valued the most now, not know her tomorrow.

"But, you're a smart witch." McGonagall pointed towards her with a slight nod of her head. She could see that she had set a strong unsettling sense of doubt in the young brunette witch standing before her. Though she proved to have the mind of an elder, Hermione still stood there wearing blue jeans, jersey and Converse trainers. The Professor's words were harsh and surreal, but just the truth. If Hermione was killed in those dark times, she obviously would never be known passed the day she used the Time Turner.

"Right." Hermione whispered a quiet understanding; her eyes still lingering on the long chain in her pale hands.

"I am not worried."

Hermione's stable frown crept into a content smile.

"What date do you plan on going back to?"

"Twenty years, I told you," Hermione repeated.

"No, what date? What exact date are you going to?"

"I hadn't thought of it. I was just going to go back to before the Potters were killed."

"1981?" The Professor asked aloud, tilting her head as if thinking back to the year. Then she smiled and opened the top left drawer of her desk, taking out a very old looking piece of parchment. She held it to herself or a moment, giving it a sincere smile and then handing it over to Hermione. "Take this with you, but you cannot go any earlier than September 15."

"What's this? And why not any earlier?" Hermione asked, carefully taking the paper that looked like it had never been unsealed. A waxed stamp was still pressed firmly against its closing and the edges of the envelope were so tattered and yellowed, Hermione felt wrong for handling it without gloves.

"Find me when you get there and hand that to me," the older Professor said. She thought back to a strong memory she had kept for a very long time, but only making sense of it now. She tried not to dwell over it too long.

"What is it?"

"Nothing for you. So remember to just give it to me."

Hermione nodded, carefully cradling the piece and not knowing its contents, but respecting her former Professor's wishes. The hesitant witch made a half turn before glancing back for a very important question came to surface within the wheels of her mind.

"Now, Professor, about those strict rules about someone seeing me. What exactly are the consequences?" Hermione asked, hesitantly. She had planned on going back, and it did involve meeting Sirius in those days, but if she didn't run into herself along the way, what exactly was she to expect?

McGonagall just smirked and waved her hand, "Nothing, it's just an empty threat."

Hermione's eyes bulged out in surprise that she had been duped all this time, but had nothing to say on the matter.

"Let me put it this way, if you ran into yourself, what would you say?"

Hermione just nodded, as if absorbing the information, "Point taken."

"But, remember again, you cannot change any events that have happened. Be very very careful about that. Sirius Black must still go into Azkaban. The Potters' fate must not be changed and Black still has to fall into the Veil. You did a great job fishing him and several others out, so I would hate for that to be ruined. It's tragic what has happened to so many, but the Time Turner is not meant to change major events. Too many years have gone by and sometimes things must remain as they are."

"I understand, Professor."

The walk down the street of Grimmauld Place and the meandering thoughts that whirled around her head like a thundering wind accented every sound around her. She was about to embark on a thorough journey through time that may change the course of events, even with she just being in the same room as someone. It was clear to her now, as a lonely bird chirped in a far tree for a mate to join him, that she did risk her very existence in the wizarding world. But, life was too short to dwell on the consequences. _Was Sirius Black getting into her head, with this track of thinking?_ She loved her best friend, he was her family and Sirius meant the world to him. She would do this for them.

Her feet finally led her back to the big disguised house; the Time Turner hidden beneath her shirt. She immediately went upstairs and began packing a knapsack for the trip. She had stopped at a few thrift stores on the way home, hoping to find some pieces to blend in with the early decade and succeeded with a few pairs of flared jeans, retro t-shirts, jacket and a dress that she probably would have still worn in her own era. She hadn't anticipated a long time away, just however long it took for her to get it clear to Sirius that his life did matter, as well as all of those that relied on him. He mustn't give up on life, he mustn't give up on people and he should always be proud of where he came from and the tremendous journey he was about to embark upon (though, she wasn't able to mention anything of his future, being incarcerated or floating in a black void for most of his life). Hopefully, when she returned, number twelve Grimmauld Place should be a happier one. Whether she was in it or not.

There was absolutely no better time than the present to act on her mission and with her knapsack on her back; she bound down the stairs of Grimmauld Place. She met Remus down in the sitting room. He was lying on the couch, resting from the full moon the night before. He had fresh cuts on his face, a beautiful color surely due to all the protein he'd just endured, but he still appeared weak like he'd run three marathons in a matter of two days.

The withering werewolf awoke from his faint nap and met her with a warm smile. His lips cracked where his fangs had cut his lips from the previous nights' transformation. His hair fell scruffy over his shoulders like a weathered traveler and his heavenly translucent eyes bore through her like a secure blanket over her skin.

Immediately, Hermione laid down her knapsack and went to her long time friend, allowing her maternal instincts to take over. She joined him on the divan, he lying sideways along it and she taking up just a small bit of cushion in front of him. She passed the back of her hand over his cheek to sooth him a bit more and inquired if he needed anything.

"Anything I can get for you, Remus? You don't look good today. I mean, you look worse than usual," she said, pulling up the blanket to his neck.

"Thank you, my dear. No, I don't need anything." His voice was strained, like he'd been howling the entire night before. His eyes slowly drifted closed and a light murmur followed as he continued to rest.

She leaned over his coveted body and laid a kiss on his cheek, "You're lying. I'm going to make you some tea."

Once the room was silent again, Remus opened his eyes to see that she had gone into the kitchen despite his denial. In the corner, he noticed her worn, overstuffed, backpack waiting for her to return. With the pockets overfilled and the buttons about to burst, it settled in Remus to know where she was going. His energy for just surveying the room was already taking a toll on him and his willpower to stay away to discuss anything with her was quickly depleting. His eyes closed again, his heart beat settled and he was on the brink of sweet dreams in a quiet house listening to the old clock tick in the foyer.

Hermione breezed into the kitchen casually, barely noticing Sirius sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet. He, on the other hand, watched her practically float into the room like an angel as she went to the pantry to retrieve a tea bag for his friend. His eyes traveled dangerously up the length of her, taking in her feminine curves that he remembered fondly of touching with softened hands. His guilt from the night before had surfaced and he quickly averted his eyes from the temptation. Too much had been let out, his words were not chosen properly, but in that instant he said what he needed to say. And now, as she added cream to the tea, he was speechless and empty. She still wielded so much power over him when she'd parade her ignorance to him like a tempting dessert.

Hermione spun around and balanced the tea cup on a saucer, just catching the presence of another watching her intently. She stopped suddenly and parted her lips like she did the night before, as if she had something to day but somehow he numbed her. Seeing him, practically hearing his words dripping from his lips in the silent room made her heart skip a single beat, but she couldn't force a sound.

He in turn remained silent as well as their eyes met with a steel connection. The room around them stilled, time seemed to pass slowly and finally she ducked her head at him and made her departure. Sirius was left alone.

With butterflies welling up in her stomach, she felt the door hit her in the rear as she left him sitting there in the kitchen. Was he thinking of what he said to her the night before? Was he about to add to it, for an extra punch? Aside from it all, one thing was certain, Hermione's heart couldn't stop thumping for him with the way his crystal blue eyes bore through her like a romantic sonnet. A relatively new charm he had over her.

Hermione returned to Remus, still lightly slumbering on the old divan like a big lethargic cat. She didn't wish to wake up, so she quietly set down the cup and saucer on the nearby side table, hoping he'd remember it. With feet of cotton, she gently tiptoed out the door to leave him to his peace and begin her long journey.

The latch of the door forced Remus's eyes to open once again, noticing that the backpack that sat in the corner was now gone. His worn muscles protested as he used any strength left within him to push himself up into a sitting position. From there, he pulled the blanket tighter around him in a shawl manner and stood to slowly make it to the kitchen to see his friend.

Just as Hermione had left him, Sirius was engrossed in the daily ramblings of Rita Skeeter and her insatiable thirst for gossip. So entranced by her adverbs and adjectives, he barely heard Remus dragging his tired feet into the kitchen like a living zombie. The sight of his friend concerned him and he stood to help.

Remus held his hand up to refuse any assistance and spoke to him plainly and generically. "Hermione's left."

Sirius remained standing and nodded. "Yes, I know. I just saw her." He began folding up the newspaper and was about to offer it to his friend when his words stilled him.

"No, she's left, Sirius. She's going." Remus was clear the first time, but it was the way he confirmed it in a stronger tone that really made it sink in.

Sirius's hands that gripped the newspaper started to weaken and as he slowly looked up at his friend, as if he'd just announced his own death, the paper fell from his shaking hands. His pulse began to pick up and his ears perked up to any sound around the outside that may have been her footsteps walking away. His mouth started to dry, as he nearly forgot how to lick his lips when in slight dehydration and his breath started to become more erratic with every second that passed.

Finally, as if someone had just pulled a plug that brought him electrical emotion, he stilled in a silent shock. No butterflies, no flutter, just a stilled numbing. He thought that after all these years he would be prepared for it. Watching her age before him, becoming the beautiful young witch that seemed to carry him in his darkest moments when she didn't even know who she was to him. He felt his body getting heavier and heavier as he stood on his own two feet, his head got lighter and his vision started to spin. Like an old man, he slowly eased himself carefully back into the chair, afraid that if he didn't lower his altitude, he might actually pass out on the hard cold floor.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione walked down the streets casually, as if she were out window shopping, searching for the nearby apparation spot. Behind some tall bushes that leaned against a dilapidated brick wall, she disappeared and then reappeared in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron.

The "pop" sound she made upon reentry was barely enough to make an old pair of drinking wizards look her way. However, once her equilibrium settled again, she nearly tripped over another wizard's cane that had it haphazardly leaning against an empty chair.

"Sorry!" she said, treading around the scattered chairs like an obstacle course. She secured her backpack as she found her footing again.

"Sorry about that, miss. I try to keep that area clear, but the regulars keep movin 'em back." The bartender, Tom, was just putting away freshly wiped beer mugs on an overhead shelf. A floating rag to his left waited impatiently for another mug to clean.

Hermione looked a little frazzled, moving her hair away from her face after nearly meeting the dirty wooden floor in a tumbling heap. She looked up and realized he was speaking to her.

"Oh, right," she said, looking back to make sure she didn't lose anything on the ground. Her hands immediately went to her chest where she felt the bulge of the Time Turner still hidden under her shirt.

"Get you a drink, young miss?" Tom asked, offering his levitating rag another dripping wet mug.

"Ah," she felt like she was caught off guard. "No, thank you. I mean, when I get back. I need to use the loo, first."

Tom nodded and pointed the direction. Of course, she'd been there several times before, so she knew exactly where it was. She politely nodded and went to find an abandoned stall. She lucked out as the rest of the untidy facilities with burping wastebaskets overflowing with paper towels were vacant. She stepped into one of the four stalls and pulled out the Time Turner from under her t-shirt.

Hermione swallowed hard when she looked down at the bronze time piece in her hands. She hadn't seen it for eight years, and even now, she couldn't estimate the power it possessed. The long chain grew longer as she pulled it from her body and like a slinky it would retract the closer she held it to her chest.

Feeling ready to run a marathon, Hermione had never been so anxious to do this. A strong believer in magic, an even stronger amateur scientist, her heart was in the right place, but when doubt started to visit her, it occurred to her that maybe she was making the wrong decision. Maybe she shouldn't go and try to talk sense into Sirius. At this point, there was no guarantee that he would even speak to her, let alone befriend her. The times back then were different. She was one year old, her parents had no idea she was a witch.

Regardless, she did lie to McGonagall about one tiny thing. She was slightly curious.

With a deep breath like she was about to jump into the deep end of a pool with cold water, she spun the Time Turner for the last time. In a whirl, everything played around her backwards. From people going in and out of the stall, seeing more than she needed, to remodeling, to spills, to overflows, to horny couples, to quidditch hooligans that had snuck into the ladies loo and finally one person left, flushing the toilet in the stall next to her. She had arrived.

Hermione swallowed the large lump that had formed in her throat. Her ears were keen to the surrounding sounds of the witch washing her hands and then leaving the room. All was silent, except for a drip from the sink that was left on. She looked down and saw she was standing in a puddle of water that was leaking from the rear of the toilet plumbing.

She turned her lip up in disgust and made a vocal disapproving sound. She walked out of the bathroom and looked into the mirror. She took one more glance up and down to make a final appraisal of her clothes before venturing off and finding the notorious Mauraders.


	6. September, 1981

_A note from Serade Black: Thank you for all the supportive reviews. I get such a high over people that have made comments about how they weren't normally into this ship, but then the way it's explained I've made it make sense. I love this pair, a lot of their written relationship has been inspired by real life events, as well as my active imagination. Finally, we see some wheels turning as we set the stage in this chapter. Though my updates are sometimes very far between, let it be known that I will not abandon this fic. I've already written the ending. Enjoy - and please keep reviewing. Just a quick WELCOME and THANK YOU to those that have just found my work. It's an honor to absconded some of your time. SB_

Chapter 6 -

**September 15, 1981**

The streets of Hogsmeade weren't as crowded that evening. If anything, the nearly vacant streets were a little too silent for their own good.

Her Converse trainers scraped over the sidewalk, crunching on loose twigs that had gone astray from the nearby center trees. Windows in shops had been drawn for the closing of the day, the sun having nearly set only a half hour earlier. A wavy sale sign fluttered loose around the ceiling of a shop called Flying Favorites, where Zonkos is currently located in her time. Adjacent to that, a music shop with a purple and green striped awning called Muggle Music had various rock posters for the non-wizarding music. Next to a winking picture of Stubby Boardman in his glam regalia, Roger Daltrey of The Who was immobile, frozen in mid air with a microphone cord wrapped around his wrist.

A few wandering wizards passed her on the lonely streets, smiling politely to her and making no regard to her being out of her time. Their footsteps joined hers as they bounced off the store walls, making small whisper talk of the Stubby Boardman poster, who now was flipping his hair around his shoulders in a seductive manner.

Hermione looked all around her, making small mental notes about the various food places that have since changed from her time, as well as the damage on a few storefront signs that probably incurred due to the rise of Death Eaters. It did not bode well, knowing that it was all about to get very worse in only a month's time; it was all too familiar to her generation. Living in fear, not trusting anyone, wary of your own friends.

Even in another decade, she still knew where she was going and thought it best to sit down for a spell, have something to eat and assess the situation. Her feet took her to the Three Broomsticks, owned by Madam Rosmerta.

The building was much like a short little house outside, but once you went in, it was much larger and with a second floor where the Madam resided. As she pushed through the creaking door, a few unfamiliar faces looked back at her, but she didn't draw enough attention to keep their interest. Two old wizards leaned their heavy elbows on the bar as they nursed half filled glasses of some steamy liquor that probably was way too rich for her liking. A trio of witches sat in a corner gossiping together amongst themselves and scattered all over were various two-sets of drinkers having a meal.

"Good Evening, love. Get you a pint?" Madam Rosmerta asked as she leaned over the counter with her assets proudly displayed. She looked much younger in the skin. Her hair wasn't pulled as tight and was loosely held by combs with stray pieces falling around her face romantically. She had a mole above her lip, but it gave her quite an exotic look.

Hermione smiled politely, "Ah, hot tea and maybe a bowl of soup?"

Madam Rosmerta looked her down and up and then gave her a wink. She gathered the young witch wasn't the one to sit alone and drink; judging by her overall "neat" appearance. "Yes, love. Go sit and I'll fix it up for you."

Hermione nodded her thanks and turned around to find a darkened corner where she could survey everyone and take it all in, with still enough light to use as she jotted down notes. She set down her knapsack on the bench next to her and took out a notebook and quill.

The pub hadn't changed much in twenty years. Shrunken heads that made crude comments to everyone passing through still hung over the door. The creaking wooden floor appeared dusty and dirty, making the chairs in the pub screech even louder when pushed out by a customer. Lanterns magically hovered over the tables, following voices to see where people might need more light. The empty tables were still quite dark. Thick wooden beams supported the building that still had various cob webs in the rafters that she remembered seeing a few other times she was there with Ron. A small family of mice made their way from one side of the pub to the other unscathed, but still a near miss as Madam Rosmerta's pointy boot kicked the last straggler out of her way as she walked towards Hermione with a steaming bowl and cup.

"Thank you," Hermione said, looking up to the striking witch. Her chandelier earrings were quite flashy to go along with the rest of her barmaid attire.

Hermione heard the rumbling in her stomach that time as her eyes fixated on the dinner she was being served. All this planning and time travel had made her quite hungry. In the corner, her concentration of getting steamy vegetables into a spoon was disrupted by enormous laughter from a small group of men that met in the corner. Shaking her head that it was typical in this setting, she finally tasted the delicious early dinner.

She was just taking the last sip of her tea cup and preparing to write down another thought on her parchment when the putrid smell of sour fish plopped down next to her. A chubby man with about three chins cooed over her and tried to make conversation as he sat close to her on the bench behind her table for one.

"Hello, my dear," the pig-like man said. His breath was sour with too much butterbeer. "What's a nice girl like you doing all alone? Can I get you a pint, or perhaps, something stronger?"

Hermione was trying to hide her face of repulsion, when she was immediately rescued by two hands that grabbed him by his thick arm and hoisted him back up off the seat and back onto his two fat feet.

"Sorry, miss," the protector said. "He's really harmless."

Hermione looked up to the face of her hero and greeted him with a gracious smile to show her appreciation. The lighting in the pub was very low, being supplied by only candlelight, she practically squint to see his face. The pudgy man accidentally hit a hanging lantern and the swinging light assisted her in seeing the man that spoke to her. Immediately, her smile fell and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Shabby robes with patches on various areas, dirty blonde hair that hung over his ears in a shaggy appearance…it was Remus! Clutching desperately to him, the pig-like man that couldn't seem to understand his abrupt departure from the young maiden's side, was the repulsive Peter Pettigrew. Behind them, two other lads clung to each other, desperately trying to defy gravity with their amount of intoxication. In the faint light, Hermione could make out the man wearing a Chudley Cannon's jersey with dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses clinging to a darkly handsome man with shoulder length black hair and chiseled jaw you could crack a walnut on.

"Sorry again, for the singing," Remus continued as he tried to balance the short chubby man on his own two feet. "They actually think they're good."

Hermione looked back at Remus as if the scene before her was the most profound thing. Her lips had parted in awe of the quad, forgetting for half a second that Remus had no idea who she was. Boyishly handsome, he had a few scratches on his face, far less than what he had when she'd known him. He looked so much younger, so much healthier and though he was cringing as the two behind him were singing _Wild Rover _in a very flat key, he still managed an apologetic disposition. The rest of the pub dwellers showed them no interest, but Madam Rosmerta was smiling big.

"Take care of 'em, Remus!" She yelled over their song.

Remus waved to the pub mistress and gave Hermione a roll of the eyes, apologizing once more.

Hermione smiled back, witnessing the scene to be extremely endearing and making her step back into history very realistic. "It's fine. Good luck."

Remus herded the group out the door, obviously very used to this situation. His words were calm and passive and when he was entirely out the door, Hermione heard the final words from one of the two singers, "Lily is gonna kill me!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Professor McGonagall, I am very pleased to give you your own. It's been a long time coming, but I feel that in your position, as future Head Mistress-"

"Oh, Albus," she scoffed. Her thin lips within severe age lines were barely noticeable in her smile. She took the small package carefully, as if being handed a special trophy.

"I'm sorry it took so long to make, Professor. I know that you will do it justice." Albus Dumbledore handed his fellow teacher, and long time friend, a small trinket box wrapped in velvet. He watched her carefully unwrap it through small half-moon spectacles with a content smile over his lips under his beard. "I trust you know all the rules for the Time Turner."

She nodded knowingly, carefully taking the long chain and special time piece out to examine it. "Yes, Albus. I do know the rules."

"But, do you know the secret trick of owning one?"

She looked at him wisely, as if waiting to hear of a lesson she did not yet learn.

"Everyone that comes to own a Time Turner must take heed and be very wary of its power. I trust you already do. But, I implore you to do yourself a favor and come up with a special safety word."

"A safety word, Albus? Headmaster, what do you mean?" she asked inquisitively. The word almost mismatched the piece she held in her hand.

"Should you encounter yourself, or someone else wearing your piece, there should always be a safety word. A reminder, a trick for yourself to know that if you were ever to meet yourself in the future, or past, that you would know they were wearing a Time Turner and therefore, never insist on speculating their arrival. Think of it as a lifeline to the past."

"A safety word, hmm? Surely I would recognize anyone who wore it." She tested, questioning herself.

"Not if you leant it out to someone." He corrected.

A bell rang in the far distance to announce that dinner was being served in the Great Hall. With no good-bye, he turned and left his fellow Professor alone in her office standing and looking at her Time Turner with peculiar interest.

"I know that in my days, I've encountered quite few interesting characters with the words, "Lemon Sherbet" written on some old parchment," he hinted with a friendly wink. The sound of his robes dragging across the stone floor indicated his departure and McGonagall was left to her thoughts.

She studied the Time Turner, as if staring at it would somehow divulge its inner most secrets. Laying gently over her well manicured aged hands in silky gold, it sparkled brightly like an all knowing beacon. In some ways this was far more powerful than anyone's wand and it should be handled with great care.

McGonagall sat at her desk, securing her new gift in a small locked box at the bottom of a desk drawer. A few spells were added to the safe area to ensure its protection and then finally she went to dip her quill in the ink bottle to write out a word. She tickled the long soft feather to her nose, hoping it would inspire her concentration, but no special key words came to mind.

Upon the quill dipping into the inkwell for at least the fourth time as she sat there listening to the sound of children learning how to ride a broom for the first time, outside her window, she heard shy footsteps entering her empty classroom.

"Yes, Miss Johnson?" The Transfiguration Professor asked as she noticed the young girl creeping in.

The pretty girl hurried to the front of the classroom, so as not to keep the Professor waiting and handed a parchment to her elder. "Sorry it's late, Professor. This is last week's essay on the Animagus. I hope I can still get credit for it?"

The Professor raised her chin and pursed her lips at the worrisome girl, but took the parchment anyway. Her glasses fell to the end of her nose when she leaned in to speak to her student. "That would depend on how good it is." Then without worry, McGonagall smirked at the corner of her mouth and let the girl smile back with slight peace of mind. In seconds, she was alone in her classroom again.

Professor McGonagall dipped her quill into her inkwell once again and in large, clear letters she wrote the word, _"Whiskers" _in script. Once the ink was dry she folded up the parchment, placed it into an envelope and sealed it with a wax stamp she melted off a nearby candle. Once that was dry, she took one more glance at the envelope and placed it on top of the small box that held the Time Turner in the bottom left hand drawer of her desk.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After spending her first night in 1981 at an inn near the Three Broomsticks, Hermione set forth to get her bearings on her surroundings. As she pulled on a short corduroy blazer over a t-shirt and jeans, she checked her overall appearance once again, to make sure she was all right for the decade. With a friendly nod to the innkeeper, she took her first steps out into the new day to venture further into the streets of Hogsmeade.

Hermione was careful not to look too many witches or wizards in the face. It was a very dark time, almost as looming as what she remembered her last years during Hogwarts. Everyone on their guard, everyone not trusting another, people looking over their shoulders in case of You-Know-Who paying them a visit. As she glanced down a darker alley at two o'clock in the afternoon, it nearly looked like midnight. Several shops down were boarded up and closed, broken signs hung before the doors creaking in the wind. Some windows had been smashed in, broken into she was sure. A stronger look and she recognized that later the same corridor will be known as Madam Puddifoot's tea shop.

A small squeak was heard down the same corridor. Upon stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, still standing on High Street, Hermione peered down the vacant road. She looked around to see if anyone around her noticed the same squeak and were half as interested as she to investigate it. Maybe the surrounding visitors were used to it, but to her it struck her odd, almost like someone was being muffled. Should she be the hero? Should she dare investigate or leave them to be with whatever is happening to them? After all, she was not supposed to change events.

Regardless, if someone was being hurt, she didn't want them to suffer. It was not in her to let someone go and suffer a painful torture, because she'd been in that position herself. So, with an immediate clutching of her wand that rested in her jacket pocket, she ventured down the sidewalk on the left side of the road, carefully treading like she were on a rickety old bridge. A sign above her head as she passed the first broken store front wavered in the wind with a haunting creak against rusty hinges, echoing off the windows that still remained in place. The sudden muffled sound was ahead, probably across the small street, but she was safer to remain on the other side to get a clear view. She discovered another alleyway that dipped in just to the right side of the road. She, however, stood across on the left. Her head tilted just a bit to the side, as if to peer across the road and down the alleyway where she suspected the people were. She remained safe across, a mere forty feet in distance when she saw the muffled inhabitants.

Hermione sighed discouragingly. Her guard let down and her eyes set on a couple snogging furiously against the brick wall. The girl's sounds echoed around them like a haunting torture. The man stood before her, his hands gripping her waist with desired lust as she tore at him mercifully. A brunette against brunette, they appeared to be absolutely taken with each other so much so, Hermione felt a slight guilt settle in her like she were some kind of voyeur. Quickly, she turned on her heel and went back towards High Street.

Her cheeks warmed briefly, but then she felt foolish for even putting herself out on the line for something so silly. Hermione finally made it to the street, secured her wand in her pocket again and gave herself a strong reality check. She shouldn't have even dared go and investigate something that may have been life threatening. Whatever was supposed to happen to anyone in this time was supposed to be. She couldn't let her morals get in the way, she couldn't allow any kind of temptation stand in front of her and she must never lose her focus regardless of the situation.

Hermione was just passing the first window of a Quidditch storefront with the brand new Nimbus 1500 proudly displayed around new Chudley Cannons jerseys. Her interest was peeked, though not a huge Quidditch player, but she always came to her friends' practices and loved a good match. She, personally, preferred to stay on the ground. Losing her interest quickly, she turned around to cross the street when behind her was parked something completely out of its element in the wizarding world.

With shiny chrome parts, leather saddle bags and medium height handlebars, she was staring at a muggle motorcycle. She knew absolutely nothing about the make, or model, only that amongst all these wizards and witches that glanced at it briefly and then walked on, Hermione was awestricken with its unusual placement in this world…when she remembered. It glistened proudly, as if it were well taken care of. Not a speck of dirt on it; it's tires looked brand new and like the one the muggle actor James Dean would ride, this machine was surely something to gawk act.

Hermione felt her heart starting to beat, as if seeing history again, live in the making, was almost too good to be true. She frantically looked around for him. Other than knowing Hagrid had later owned it, there was only one man that this bike truly belonged to and she heard the sound of boots clicking on the cement sidewalk to prove her right.

In slow motion, Hermione turned her head to the left to see the dusty boots under slim cut denim jeans that hugged his thighs like they were made for him. Her eyes followed up the length of him and she saw his black buttoned up shirt with the long sleeves, rolled to the elbows, tucked half into the waistband of his pants. Around his neck he wore a black onyx stone on a black chord. To his shoulders, midnight black waves fell fluidly around him as he walked in her direction.

She swallowed.

Her eyes finally passed higher to set on a sharp jaw line with a light shadow, perfectly cut nose, dark eyebrows and when he looked up, he pierced her with ocean blue eyes. Hermione's heart just stopped, her lips parted and she could no longer remember her own name. She could only stare, but she did remember to blink when he passed by her. Either she looked a fright or he was looking passed her at the quidditch store window; he glanced in her direction. Her eyes followed him, as his did hers until he stepped inside the store and disappeared.

Like being submerged underwater for too long, Hermione finally caught her breath when she was no longer looking at Sirius. Like a fool she gawked at him and the guilt settled into her blood so deep, that she could almost hear Ginny now scolding her to be ashamed of herself. Then she remembered what he was wearing and it dawned on her that it was the same outfit that one of the guilty parties in the alleyway was wearing. It was Sirius snogging in the deserted corridor and for some deep dark reason, Hermione found the entire escapade ashamedly erotic.

Her eyes fixated back on the motorcycle that was parked before her for what felt only like seconds, for the owner was already putting a small long parcel in one of the leather saddlebags. Rings sat over his slender fingers and his necklace dangled over a naked uninked chest.

"Something you like, beautiful?" Sirius asked as he refastened the saddlebags to not lose the new contents.

As if someone had just snapped their fingers in her face, Hermione shook herself back awake from staring at the shiny chrome. _Did he just call me beautiful?_ "Um, no. I mean, yes. I mean you have a nice bike."

Sirius smirked at the young witch with brown curls. Her cheeks were a lovely hue of blush and the way she pursed her lips as she hesitated was very cute. "Right, the bike."

Hermione was briefly taken aback by his sudden arrogance when she realized that this was all before Sirius darkened, before his life in prison before he got so…humble. He smirked at her knowingly, seeing if she'd take the bait.

"My father was a bit of an enthusiast, you could say." She composed.

Sirius still watched her carefully, skeptical of this girl. It was in his nature to be weary, even if she looked particularly pretty in such dark times.

"Do you want to go for a ride?" He invited as he threw a leg over and fixed his foot in the stirrups.

_Merlin, this wizard is forward._ "No, thank you. I must be going, actually."

She waved a slight good-bye and started back up the sidewalk in any direction away from him. With the way she probably was salivating over herself for the drop dead gorgeous wizard she shouldn't-be-thinking-impure-thoughts -of, it was best to just depart his presence all together and try again another day. After all, this was not how she expected to meet him.

After a few minutes of believing she had gotten away from him so she could sort out her thoughts, his hypnotic tongue broke through her concentration once again.

"So, are you going to tell me your name?" Sirius asked as he footed his motorbike freely next to her, intrigued to keep up with her.

Hermione stopped, surprised that he had followed her and then blinked a few times after his eyes bore though her like an enchantment. Determined to lose him, she kept on walking, but slowly. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"How about, I tell you mine and then you tell me yours?" he baited.

_He was flirting with her!_

The rose hue returned to her cheeks and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her short jacket to occupy herself as she walked as he rode side by side.

She shook her head, "No. Really, another day."

Taking a hint, but still not satisfied, he stopped his bike. She, in turn, stopped and turned around to face him as she remained a good distance on the side walk away from arms length. "Pretty soon, you'll give in. I'll learn your name and you'll take a ride with me on my bike."

"You think so?" she asked with a hint of flirtation back. He really was trying a good game. She had to at least give him a mild sense of accomplishment. Even though he was her best friend's godfather and it was completely unethical to even play, and even though her eyes couldn't stop glancing down at his thighs, she had to give him some credit.

"I do," he nodded with a smirk. "So, for now, I'll call you, Rose."

She tilted he head to the side in query, "Why Rose?"

"Because, that's the color of your cheeks, love." He in turn made her blush, but not before he left a signature wink that was enough to weaken her knees. With a single rev of his engine, the wizard was starting up his bike, making it about three blocks and then the front tire lifted into the sky, with the rest of him following.

Hermione put both hands to her cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating off of her skin. She was off to a terrible first start.


	7. Whiskers

_A note from Serade Black: The reviews are absolutely brilliant. I love your encouragement, I will never say that enough. Though I am trucking through this story, I'm still adjusting the outline, trying to make sure that some elements don't contradict too much. For example, in the last chapter, I had Hermione running into, and mistaking, Regulus for Sirius...until I check and he had died 2 years earlier. Regardless, I still wanted to make it very clear that this story (as are all of my stories) is A.U. (alternative universe) meaning whomever is alive...is still alive. I might make references to a battle, but I do not mean that there was lives lost. Just go with. Those attending the HP Conference in Chicago - find me! SB_

Chapter 7

Hermione managed to make her way to Hogwarts. She walked the long trail up to the front of the castle grounds, glancing over to her right to see Hagrid's hut and its smoking chimney; not much had changed in nearly twenty years. She got inside the castle recognizing everything. The large hallways were still damp, the faint sound of drips from exposed pipes echoed to give an eerie feel that nearly chilled her bones. Laughing could be heard from a far corridor, indicating that Peeves was on the rise and up to his normal no good.

"Hello, can I help you?" A drawled medium voice surprised her.

With a start, Hermione whirled around and was met by a fresh faced, not so greasy, Severus Snape. His eyes were on her, but not in the ferocious, intimidating manner that he was known for. Instead, he seemed non-threatening, pleasant even, and if she wasn't mistaken she may have even spotted the slightest hint of a side smirk that may have been the only time she would see him smiling. This frightened her.

"I'm sorry. I guess I thought I could find my way, but I guess I was wrong." Hermione quickly tried to cover for herself, hoping that this different Snape wouldn't take the time to read her mind and know that she was lying.

"That's all right. I'm sorry to startle you. What is it that you're looking for?" He asked with a mildly pleasant tone of voice.

Far different than the Snape she knew, but then again, this was the Snape who just recently turned good and was still hoping to save Lily's life. He had no idea what Lily's fate was, for at this point in his life he was upset for she marrying and having a son with James Potter, but it'll be her death and the lifetime commitment of watching Harry that will be his torture.

"Ah," she started, offering him a slight smile herself. "I was hoping to speak with Professor McGonagall, if she is available."

He nodded his head and gave a bigger smile once they were finally getting down to what Hermione needed. "My name is Severus Snape." He extended his hand to her. "Did you attend Hogwarts?"

Swallowing quickly, distracted to the fact that his teeth were somewhat white and not yellowed and tarnished like the older Snape she knew him to be. If anything, with his dark hair, his dark eyes and the otherwise, can't believe she's saying this, gentle friendly manner about him, it was no wonder Lily was his friend. Remus always said that she saw the best in people and it appeared that maybe she had done him good.

"I did. I mean, I didn't. My parents and I were living in America when they found out I was a witch and I had to attend wizardry school over there." Hermione took his hand for the friendly shake. Contrary to ever knowing otherwise, his grip was secure, not weak, but not strong. She noticed when his sleeve rode up that he had a bandage coming down over his left wrist and wrapping up under his shirt. She imagined that it was his dark mark he was trying to cover up at school. "My name is…Rose." She lied. Her real name really shouldn't get out, it wasn't a good idea.

After their greeting, Snape started to lead her down the corridor to McGonagall's office. Hermione knew where they were going, but she pretended to allow Snape to lead the way. In the hallway, several students in their crimson and gold or green and silver greeted their potions Professor, but all he did was nod. He seemed to radiate a bit of superiority whenever they'd call him by title, but it was his body language that sulked a little whenever a seventh year student would come his way.

"I've just recently been appointed to the potions Professor, so this is all a bit new to me," he gestured to the properness of it all.

Hermione found his responses to be quite humble. Often he would glance back at her, making sure she was keeping up, but still very polite when going through the hallways, pointing out where she shouldn't walk in case there was a puddle from a leaking pipe. Finally, they reached McGonagall's door and he knocked for her, waiting for Hermione's permission to enter. After leaving her to her meeting, he politely nodded his head, allowing his straight black tendrils to fall in his eyes and left on his heel, letting his junior black billowing robes flow behind him.

"Come in," McGonagall repeated, incase the visitor did not hear her the first time.

Hermione entered the empty classroom with rows and rows of desks with aged books lying upon them, ready for the next period. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils filled the air and in the corner, a large fat cat laid lethargically in the window sill. It was known that the transfiguration Professor was an Animagus; it was another thing to know that she had owned a cat at some point in her career.

"Yes, young lady. How may I help you?" The elder woman asked as Hermione approached closer, stepping casually, but still respectful, for Hermione was still a stranger to this woman.

Hermione had no other way to communicate to her. For a moment, she wondered if she should have even come, but she was just following orders from the future McGonagall to do what she was doing now. From her pocket, Hermione pulled out the tattered old sealed envelope that was given to her before she left. With slight hesitation, she handed it over to the inquisitive older witch who was not happy that she was being interrupted with no introduction.

"This is for you, Professor. Maybe it can explain more than I can."

With a crooked eyebrow and puckered curious lips, McGonagall slowly reached for the envelope with cautious hands. A strange witch coming into Hogwarts with no problem, and now being handed something that probably could have been delivered by owl; it was too dark of times to not always be on your guard.

Professor McGonagall took the envelope and sat back in her creaky wooden chair to look it over through half-moon glasses. A normal old envelope, no markings, no address, and she turned it over to open it. Her fingers stilled immediately and her eyes fixated on the red waxed stamp that was pressed into the paper. The older witch looked up at the girl over her glasses and looked her up and down suspiciously as if this were a trick. Hermione just bit her lip nervously, tucking her hands in the pockets of her corduroy jacket.

McGonagall took a deep breath and leaned forward over her desk again, taking a letter opener and carefully sliding it into the end of the envelope as if what she was holding was something very valuable. She broke the wax seal and took out the parchment that was placed inside. Nothing fancy, very plain yellowed parchment folded with aged creases, she opened it. Her breath hitched in her throat, she blinked several times for in big clear script read the word:

"WHISKERS"

The Professor glanced up at Hermione and very carefully scanned her entire body, hoping to see a further clue, but this was all that she needed. Doubting her momentarily, McGonagall opened the bottom left hand drawer to see that the letter she just wrote and sealed still sitting new and fresh on top of the locked box. McGonagall looked up at Hermione again, her lips were thin and the stretched veins in her neck were very obvious. Looking as she always did, her overall appearance was nearly frightening and it began to unsettle Hermione. She wondered if handing her that letter was the right thing to do.

In a moment, the stern witch softened into a smile and gentle humming. She stood up and walked around to the front of the desk to better view the young brunette that held a frightened look over her face like she were to be severely punished. Suddenly, Hermione's former Professor reached out to her and pulled her in for a hug like one would receive from a grandmother.

"Oh, child, it's good to meet you. What is your name? No, wait, don't tell me, I shouldn't know." McGonagall said while embraced and then immediately pulling her away to detach herself.

"I'm going by the name, Rose." Hermione's weak voice managed to whisper.

"Fine, then. You'll be my niece, Rose. Now, I'm away at school so my house is vacant and I'm sure you would prefer a homier feel while you're here. Are you here long? Wait, no, don't tell me."

The older witch was putting herself in such disarray it was shocking to see her so unready for this. But, whatever it was, Professor McGonagall knew she was with a Time Turner, but she knew she couldn't bend the rules too much and ask questions. In a matter of minutes, Hermione was on her way and out the Hogwarts doors with keys to her former Professor's home in London and directions where to apparate to get there. All in all, a rather easy transition considering.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione had checked out of the Inn in Hogsmeade and found the correct apparation spot into the Ministry, so as to get to London and to her new quarters. From out of a corner in the main brain of the Ministry, Hermione appeared from thin air with a "pop" that only wizards wouldn't notice. In a large vast room with several stock traders walking briskly past, Hermione glanced at the headline while passing a heckling newsboy. He had stacks and stacks of the Daily Prophet beside him with flickering pictures of the Dark Mark being cast into the sky. It flickered and waved, making passers-by avert their eyes from the front page, buying the newspaper and immediately flipping it over to read other worldly news.

She made it up to the street and took out the directions to get to McGonagall's house so she could quickly settle in. Looking left and right, noticing what streets she was by, she couldn't help but notice the rest of 1981 muggle London. Her feet took in the general direction to where she was supposed to go, but her eyes took in elsewhere.

In windows of a movie house a huge poster of "An American Werewolf in London" was advertised with ticket prices and refreshments available. In a nearby music store, there was a heckler outside shouting out about The Who tickets being available, but only limited. Older model cars still dominated the road and several witches and wizards walked alongside muggles without them even knowing. How incredible.

Her pocketed directions took her past a road she was quite familiar with. Grimmauld Place was on her left and she couldn't help but wonder what the situation was. Other than the obvious, Sirius was no longer there, his Death Eater cousins were still quite free and Mrs. Black's portrait still screeched in the hallway, while she, still living, blasted her son off the family tree.

A few low trees grew around the iron bars of the fence across from the hidden house. Hermione found safety behind some shrubbery as she walked along the inside of the fence, hoping not to be seen. Her shoes crunched the leaves beneath her, as her hand carefully guided her as she counted the house numbers. Granted, she knew where this house was like the back of her hand, but it still never ceased to fascinate her. Finally, number eleven and then thirteen sat snug together, wall to wall, no other indication that anything was nearby.

Her eyes followed up the brick building with iron terraces, hoping to get a glimpse of number twelve in its natural habitat. To her right, she heard the light squeaking of a baby carriage. Not terribly annoying but noticeable regardless.

Behind the fence, Hermione watched as a pretty blonde woman with hair pulled taut upon her head, walking alongside another blonde man with a shoulder length blonde hair, pushing a baby's carriage up the walk. Two young, very attractive people, wearing the colors of black and green velvet like royalty. A broach on the man's lapel sparkled, catching the sneaking sun that came out momentarily behind an overbearing cloud. They stopped at the entrance of number twelve and waited. Hermione swallowed. It was Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and in the carriage, a baby Draco was being hoisted up into the mother's arms when she went to the front of the carriage to check on the status of her baby.

A happy cackling erupted from the opposite direction. A statuesque woman in a long flowing black dress with black gloves and straight long black hair was coming their way. Her walk was powerful, her legs long, her arms wild and loud and behind her about five feet was another dark wizard in black attire with deep purple trim. He, too, was dressed to the nines in the finest threads of black velvet and he showed far less affection or reaction like the woman ahead of him; Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Bellatrix gently kissed her sister on the cheek and reached out to hold the baby, but Narcissa shook her head. Instead, she placed the child back into the carriage and secured him with the proper buckles. The two men shook hands cordially, but there was no bond between them. The women were the connected ones; the men were just their accessories. After a few minutes of fussing with the baby, who had started to cry an annoying shrill sound, the four disappeared between number eleven and number thirteen without a blink.

Down a quiet little street called Marley, Hermione followed the overgrown sidewalk along pretty perfect garden fences to number six eighty-two. A quaint little cottage-style house with forest green shutters that blended into the tall oak tree, brought a smile to her lips. The door was painted a light country blue and when she put the key into the lock, it turned itself and opened before her with minimal effort. She stepped inside the small foyer and set her backpack on the foot of the stairs so as to explore her surroundings further.

To her immediate right, a small archway led her to a living room just big enough for a loveseat, fireplace and bookshelf covered in ancient books, doilies and small trinkets from McGonagall's family or childhood. Plaques were framed on the walls indicating past teaching courses and awards she had earned through the years. Through there, she saw the kitchen sitting in the back with a small table top for two decorated in a pretty linen table cloth, with dishes of a very antique design were placed gently on the hutch. An eager scrubbing brush awoke at the sound of someone coming into the kitchen in hopes of cleaning something or sponging something to death. A small ice box sat in the corner and a hearth in the wall, making the kitchen quite nice for her short stay.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms. Hermione opted to take the guest room seeing as it just felt too strange to sleep in her former Professor's bedroom. That and it smelled like moth balls. A nice full sized bed with yellow and pink sheets and comforter made it very inviting to take a nap, but for now she'd just settle her things in and then go and explore a bit more around Diagon Alley.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

After a quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione passed through to Diagon Alley where she was surprised to see the streets not so busy at this time of year. Usually, you caught the stragglers from those in their first term running around to purchase replacement wands that went wrong on first years' first days, or new robes because the kids had gotten too tall or new broomsticks for the newest quidditch team player. There were shoppers, but people still lived in fear and some were quite frightened to act in their every day lives. Of course, there were still the types, like Order members, that would have no problem shopping on a Wednesday afternoon.

As she took in the familiar sites, she noticed a few extra junk shops, also known in the muggle world as pawn shops, which were in between the normal stores. Times weren't the greatest and it was a sure thing that people were probably trying to simplify their lives and rid themselves of too many possessions. It led for a good laugh, an immediate fix, or unique find, but there was something to be said to treating yourself to a new book in Flourish and Blotts, where Hermione had just turned to.

The smell of newly bound parchment filled her senses, bringing back the memories of retuning to school. How simpler times were to come every year with her best friends. She used to get lost in the rows and stacks of new knowledge that she would feast upon like an American Thanksgiving.

After what was probably an hour, she came down with a new, but to her it was old, hard to find book called The White Line. A book about different accounts from previous Time Turner travelers and how they readjusted or how they blended in. She had read about this book while she was at Hogwarts, but she was never able to acquire it.

Lost in the preface, her feet knew exactly the right way to the check-out counter. Down the twelve stairs, turn left and down seven stairs, take a left and walk about twenty paces with a slight curve to the right. She shook her hair out of her eyes and placed the book down on the counter. A friendly face met her to take her money, and it set Hermione back a small bit.

Dressed in a nice brown blazer with tan patches on the sleeves, choppy ash blond hair and a sweet smile, a man with the nametag "Remus" on his lapel met her, again. He took a moment to look her over when he tilted his head and casually pointed at her, "The other night at the pub, right?"

Hermione was so nervous; she nearly forgot how to speak again. Here she was trying not to make too much of a ripple in time, but it seemed that, as she was being recognized, she couldn't help it. The only thing she could do while back here, was try not to stand out. Not do anything that they might not forget. Don't repeat your name, don't do anything extraordinary and by all means, try to only become an acquaintance, not a good friend.

"Ah, yes. That was me," she breathed, reaching for her wallet in the small satchel she carried.

He took the book from her to check out the title in order to price it for her while carrying on the conversation with her, "Sorry again 'bout my mates. They get on a little when they've had a few."

Hermione smiled and rubbed her lips nervously, "Oh, they were fine."

"That'll be two galleons, please."

She handed him the money, noticing the fresh cut on his face. It looked like he may have forgotten about a new scar and accidentally scratched it. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a tissue. Maternally, she leaned over and lightly dabbed his cheek when he looked at her and touched her hand.

"Sorry, you just…right there." She pulled her hand away slowly when he continued to press the tissue against his cheek. He appeared slightly embarrassed that she had noticed anything.

"Oh, thank you." He said very quietly with a shy voice. "We ah, I stumbled into a tree the other night. Didn't watch where I was going. Too much Firewhisky, I guess."

Hermione tilted her head gently for him, watching him get her change and hide his face from her at the same time. Remus was such a gentle person to have become what he had. It was against all that he was, but at least he didn't have to be alone during his transformation. However, for twelve years he was alone. Changing in the Shrieking Shack, one friend dead, one friend betrayed and the last one locked up in Azkaban. It was all going to change for this nice man with blondish locks.

"You don't drink Firewhisky." She said as a matter of fact.

He looked back at her, like really looking at her as if he almost felt something different about the girl buying The White Line from the bookstore he'd worked in for two years. She appeared trusting to him, gentle and saw through his little white lie.

"You're right, I don't." He quietly confirmed, as if she had found him out.

Hermione blinked a few times as if realizing that she had already said too much. She mentally scolded herself for making any knowledgeable references to anyone she knew in the future and immediately clammed up.

"This book is a popular one." Remus interrupted, changing the subject as he noticed her sudden nervousness. "We've only had it in maybe a couple of weeks."

Quickly taking her change and stuffing the coins in her pocket, she felt rushed as she hoped he would forget everything she'd said to him. But, when she heard him trying to make simple conversation with her to change the subject, she couldn't be rude so she stilled her obvious quick movements and gave him a slight apologetic smile with her shoulders falling relaxed.

"I hope so. I've heard great things about it." She collected the book off the counter and hugged it to her chest, ducking her head.

"If you come in again, let me know how it was." He suggested as he noticed her half-turn away from him. He was never the type to flirt, so he hoped that she didn't mistake him. He was genuinely touched by her gentle gesture that he was taken aback by her kindness. Only Lily Potter had been so instantly kind to him. This stranger was similar to her in likeness and gesture that it was almost like she may have been related to Lily.

"I will, Remus. Thank you." Without a second glance, she left the store and took a moment outside of the shop to compose herself. Her heart was racing; she was so nervous. Of all people to sell her the book on Time Turners, it did not bode well that he knew.

After a deep cleansing breath, she looked around and tried to refocus. She opened up her big heavy book and turned back to the page she was already beginning. She was hoping to find some place to sit down and perhaps keep on reading. Just like in Flourish and Blotts, her feet started to carry her down the sidewalk. Never looking up, but not walking too quickly since the streets weren't that crowded. She veered to the left, crossing the road and heading for a small café that nested in the far corner.

She turned the page of her encyclopedia-sized book and felt the sidewalk below her feet beginning to slope. Her eyes glanced up and she realized that the stores were dark, but open. Bats flew low as they were chased by venomous owls looking for lunch. Wizards and witches clumped together in their depressing colored robes, sinister sneers and pointed witch hats with plumes on them. A striking witch came out from the shadows from the arms of another wizard. With the grace of a snake, she slowly came towards Hermione, her eyes on her intently as she clashed in the darkness with her light green jumper and faded blue jeans. She closed the book and hugged it to her chest, her eyes as big as saucers and her breath quickly leaving her. She had just walked down Knockturn Alley.

Cautiously, like leaving a sleeping lion's den, she backed away, but the striking dark-haired witch smirked at the side of her mouth.

"Leaving, pretty?" She cooed with a coarse voice.

"Step off, Bellatrix!" Sirius had come in behind Hermione, stepping in and immediately grabbing her arm to take her out of that place.

"Sirius - you filthy BLOOD TRAITOR!" Bellatrix cried out, her husband stepping out of the darkness to hold her back like a rabid animal on a leash.

Sirius took out his wand and aimed it at her from the fifteen foot distance he stood. With her arms restrained, Bellatrix couldn't reach for her wand and instead stood there proud, with her chin out, ready for her cousin to strike.

An owner from one of the nearby shops came out and raised his voice to clear the road, begging for there not to be any more deaths on his stoop. Sirius's evil sneer quickly turned into a well-humored laugh, finding the statement quite funny and turned to leave with Hermione under his arm.

Once around the corner and back in the safety of Diagon Alley, Sirius turned on Hermione and pushed her up against the wall of the ice cream parlor. Though she was clutching a book for dear life, he snatched it from her hands, dropped it on the ground and reached for her left arm. He slid up her long sleeve to check her forearm, not hearing her protests. Then, mechanically, he grabbed her other arm and did the same, making sure there were no Dark Marks. Once relieved, he bent over and retrieved her book and handed it back to her like nothing had happened.

Hermione had a slightly worried face when he accosted her and then changed characters like Jekyll into Hyde both back in the Alley and now as he checked her arms.

"Sorry, just had to make sure you weren't a trick." Sirius said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans. He wore a black and white striped button-up shirt, a design that Hermione hated to see him in, with the same onyx stone hanging around his neck. His hair was pulled back into a small pony tail, but several wisps had fallen forward, there was barely any hair being restrained. His cologne was intoxicating and she couldn't remember if she was mad at him or smitten by him. Anger won her over.

"Thank you, I guess. But, I could have taken care of myself." Hermione felt like she needed to defend herself. She did not play damsel-in-distress very well.

He, on the other hand, pulled back at her, "Really? Is that why you froze the second my cousin started to come up to you? Could have fooled me. Next time, I'll just leave you in there."

"Fine!" She pouted with a stern voice.

He smiled, intrigued by her frustration, so he softened up to throw her off guard, "It's good to see you again, Rose."

Throwing that left curve took her for a surprise and she just looked at him, waiting for something witty to come to mind. She felt her temper beginning to subside, though it hadn't gotten that inflamed, it was more like hearing someone say, 'I told you so' and then sticking their tongue out.

"Do you have a big door to keep open, or do you intend on reading that encyclopedia?" Sirius gestured towards the rather heavy book that Hermione clung in her arms like a protective shield.

She looked down at it, hoping to hide the title from him, and raised her chin tall, "I, unlike you, enjoy a bit of light reading occasionally."

"Light reading? I think you need to get your head examined, love." He turned around on her and walked a few feet away. After a few paces, he glanced back to see why she didn't follow.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to follow behind you like a puppy?" She asked sarcastically. The sheer look on his face with her rebuttal was priceless, shocking to him, in fact.

Sirius narrowed his brow, still with a grin and he came back to her, nearly circling around her to see every bit as if sizing her up. Her eyes followed him as she clutched her book to her chest, watching him walk around her like a preying lion, but he was harmless.

"Well, aren't we a pleasant surprise." When he was behind her, he couldn't help but glance down and get a nice look at the way her jeans hugged her rear figure. Quite nice, to his liking.

Hermione said nothing; she was not going to flirt. She had to be strictly platonic with this man in sheep's clothing. He was her best friend's godfather and it wasn't proper to speak to him in any other kind of way. If she was to be his friend, it was to be a platonic one. The fact that she couldn't help but glance down at his strong defined hands without nearly blushing meant nothing. He just looked like he'd be a good worker.

"You know, you aren't supposed to keep your wand in the back of jeans." Hermione announced in a know-it-all voice. She really had to break away from his bait and start showing more of her brainy side to detour him of any possibilities.

He stopped right in front of her, crossing his arms against his chest and smirking down at her from the side of his mouth. "Funny, someone else I know tells me the same thing. Bit of an odd fella. Likes to chase dark wizards. They say he's mad."

"I'd say he was a genius."

"You think the same as he, then? Think I'm going to blast off my arse, then?"

They stood close, but Hermione found the air suffocating. His cologne was creating a new enchantment over her; his face was so close she could see the day's worth of stubble he purposely neglected to shave. His well manicured jawline was so perfect; he appeared to have carried the blood of an aristocrat.

"If you're not careful. Now, excuse me, Sirius." She said looking away before she did something stupid, like glance at his toned forearms again. Getting out of his sightlines, she walked around him as if he were a road block on the sidewalk.

Sirius spun around on his heel to watch the headstrong brunette walk passed him, paying him hardly any regard. She did not glance back; she just trucked on up the sidewalk, passing other wizards and witches.

"You know my name! That's not fair!" Sirius shouted at her, over the tops of onlookers. She turned around and gave him a wave as she walked backwards in the other direction. Getting on about twenty feet without slowing down, he couldn't help but chuckle at her haughtiness.

A petite redhead came towards Sirius from across the street, greeting him in a low-cut blue sweater and short black skirt. She put a hand around his waist and looked in the same direction that he was. He was fixated on something, or rather someone up the sidewalk.

"Hey Giselle," he said under his breath, barely glancing down at her heavily displayed assets. She was a beautiful girl, but his intrigue was on the girl walking away, paying more attention to the big oversized book than him. "Fine, guess you'll still be Rose to me, then!"

Hermione turned around once more and gave him a gentle four finger swish of a wave, shaking her head when she saw the red-headed ornament draped around him like a cheap suit. The playboy he was, the playboy he'll be, he had no other interest in her. She was just the one that wouldn't play his game.

And for that, he'd probably never forget her.


	8. Foreshadowing

_A note from Serade Black:__ A long time coming, so I deserve all flames due to my absence. Bear with me, I am working hard on trying to finish the next chapter, but I'm finding out that I need more depth in certain areas. Though this chapter is not my favorite, I feel very confident that the long outcome of the story will make you happy! Stay tuned! SB_

Ch. 8

Big brown eyes watched him like a God, admiring the way his chin was chiseled to perfection with the gentle shadow of hair that made a crisp line. His eye lashes blinked delicately as he looked ahead over the crowd; his attention elsewhere, anywhere, but on her. Flawless nails of a French manicure tapped gently over his taut chest, lightly teasing the top button to open further so that she might get a glimpse of his naked firm skin.

She licked her lips seductively in order to tempt him, but his interest was ahead of them going in another direction. His voice bellowed as he said the name "Rose" aloud, erupting a soft arousal in the red head at the intake of his breath.

"Who was that?" said the meek voice. She shifted her shoulders to be presented in the most alluring position should he look her way.

Sirius's lips pursed, his brow furrowed and he tipped on his left foot to better see her disappearance. He cleared his throat with a gentle cough, mentally shaking himself from his momentary distraction.

"She's just a friend." He turned to Giselle and lifted her chin towards him with a gentle finger. He closed his eyes when he kissed, the last memory in his mind being of the headstrong brunette with the green hoodie.

The witch under his arm remained preoccupied with the way his kiss lingered over her like the calm before the storm, keeping her eyes closed in the event that he might kiss her again. His lips only left Giselle's for a second, when he opened one eye with an unnatural pull to see if he could catch one more glimpse of Hermione.

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The gentle ticking of a muggle clock in the shape of a cat with it's tail as the pendulum soothed the energy in the small room of the quaint little cottage-type house. Emerging from under soft quilts and feather pillows, Hermione opened her eyes into the overcast sky outside her London window from the comfort of McGonagall's guest room.

Delicate antique furniture dressed the room in a cozy manner, smelling of lilac and rosemary. The walls had a couple of portraits, her old family members, just brightening up for the new day making quiet rustling sounds as they adjusted their framed positions.

At the end of the bed, the circular fur rug purred it's good morning the second Hermione's bare feet touched the floor. She stretched as she stood up, wearing cotton pajama pants and a tank top. She glanced back at the magic bed, confirming that was the greatest nights' sleep she had ever had in her life. Something about old people's houses, she guessed.

The White Line lay on the floor next to her; it was too heavy to rest on a side table. Several pages had been dog eared and notes had been jotted down in a little notebook that lay on top of it. She bent over and hoisted the heavy weight into her arms and ventured downstairs to have some tea and a light bite to eat as she perused a bit of the last few lines she was reading before fading off to slumbering oblivion the night before.

The large book lay open on the small kitchen table, taking up most of the space where Hermione had to hold her tea cup in her hand, dropping a few crumbs into the pages as she buried herself into it.

_"The strongest way not to be remembered when interacting with wizards from another time is to do your research. Find out about those that have since passed on before your time. Meeting them, befriending them if necessary, will not leave an impression of you in their memories, allowing yourself the freedom to roam about in their lives. However, do not involve yourself so far deep that their death is delayed, or worse nonexistent. Example, do not attempt to be a life saver. _

_Your presence, for the most part, should be unknown, but if you're aware of certain details or aspects of their life, be sure to stay clear of any major events. Be wary of your friendships, if any, that they do not remember you. It's far better to be an acquaintance."_

The cold metal of the pencil's eraser met her lips as she tapped them lightly while deep in thought. _Knowing James and Lily_.

Her immediate plan of action was to befriend Lily or James and sneak her way into their lives. But, she had already been exposed to her target, so she just popping up again was enough to draw suspicion. Hermione read on.

_"In the most desperate times, the OBLIVIATE charm works wonders."_

Hermione wondered if that was a possibility. Quite easily, she could say what she needed and be finished with him. Another possibility was revisiting Godric's Hollow to meet Lily, but then would she do the classic "bump into" and go from there? Even if her act was good, how would she go about with Sirius if Lily was the one to bring her around? That would be too suspicious. Then the last idea was to just befriend him, tell him and be gone before Halloween. That way, she wouldn't leave too much of an impression on him, he'll hear what he needs to and the rest should fall appropriately.

Her eyes scanned over the words, letting them gel together as one dark blur. Perhaps she should have had a better plan, before racing back to 1981.

_"Don't do anything that might stick out in others' memories." _

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The Three Broomsticks was poorly lit for the day's ending. Withered candles in hanging chandeliers were burned to the wick, leaving the light faint and romantic. Dusty ceiling boards with old webs acted as a trapeze for various small bugs that may have flown into the center attraction, making them to be a spider's meal. A chair scraped across the floor with a grinding gritty screech across the wood, alerting to the rest of the pub that someone was excusing themselves to the loo. Most of the barstools that stood on rickety legs were occupied and Madam Rosmerta laughed aloud all over her pub as she delivered pints, butterbeers and dinner to her patrons

In the far corner, two wizards, one with a small mouse nestled in the crook of his neck, played a game of wizards chess where occasionally a piece would fall to the floor and roll under Madam Rosemerta's feet as she fluttered around from table to table checking on everyone's status. A circle of four witches out for a hen night giggled furiously at the way one of the girls was able to change her handbag into various muggle pleasure toys with a twitch of her nose.

She was hidden by dark shadows of poor lit lanterns. The brainy witch still managed to make it half way into her four inch thick book. A half drunk butterbeer sat on the small two-top table along with an empty plate that only showed evidence of a bacon and cheese sandwich that had been all but a quarter eaten.

"You all right, love? Still hungry?" Madam Rosmerta was balancing two mugs in one hand as she lifted the discarded plate.

"No, ma'am. I've fine, thanks." Hermione glanced up, holding a finger down on the page after the last word she had read to herself.

The pretty older witch nearly tossed her disheveled bun loose when she almost tripped over a stray piece from the wizard chess. "That thing rolls under my boot one more time; I'll checkmate the both of you out of here."

"Love on ya, Rosmerta!" The wizard with the nestled mouse burped out. Not to be expected from two refined citizens like themselves.

Hermione rested her chin on a bent wrist, perusing the subsections of the new page and where she might be guided next. Her eyes strayed to the dilapidated old door with hanging shrunken heads that were currently yelling odd profanities at the hen party. She squinted against the old wood, as if it would help her hear more clearly. The faint rumblings of an engine were coming closer and then the screech of a tire hitting the asphalt as it came to a halt outside of the pub. The engine was cut, keys rattled but was quickly stifled into a pocket.

As if music was playing in the background to announce his imminent arrival, Sirius pushed through the door and walked casually up to the bar, like he had part ownership and leaned against the old oak railing. His body curved naturally into the standard pub position very cooly like he could have copy written that stance. His leg was slightly bent, his hips turned and his broad shoulders rested casually, intrigued by the pub mistress.

He wore a buttoned down navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong tanned forearms, while tucked into a worn pair of Levi's that were cut properly and fraying over his brown scuffed cowboy boots. His black silky hair fell right to his shoulders, wind blown from hours of riding from Godrics Hollow and back that day through the clouds.

"Rosmerta, how about today?" Sirius smiled at the mistress with hopeful teasing eyes. For years he had been at her heels and for years she denied him that it was just an on-going conversation starter for the two of them.

"Sirius Black, I would curl your hair with the stories I could tell you." She had a definite twinkle in her eye for him as she leaned over to meet his conversation; her chandelier earrings dangling from her ears. She'd watched him grow into the man with looks that could stop a war, always wondering how Sirius would actually be if one day, she just said 'yes'.

Hermione leaned further over her book, using her hand to cover her face, hoping not to be noticed. She wished to be unseen , but then again, she was the only one in the pub leaning over a book that was nearly as big as the table it sat upon.

Sirius leaned closer to the bar mistress, closing his eyes and commenting on the exotic perfume she wore the whole time admiring her proud assets that filled her bodice top. After Rosmerta allowed him his brief tease, she leaned back up to serve a customer at the end of the bar that was whistling for her attention. The two broke apart like two long time lovers in a scandalous affair; her eyes lingering on him for a second longer.

He glanced to his right, noticing the herd of women that had been quite vocal until the second he breezed in a wind about to initiate a thunderstorm. He narrowed his eyes on the one in the center that wore the crown that set off small fire crackers every time she giggled. He curved the corner of his thin mouth into a coy smile, tempted to do his worse.

Instead, the charmed one fed the devil that was his ego by turning on them and leaving them with a signature wink. In turn, the woman devoured him mentally by committing his physique to memory for a role model for the rest of the nights' lewd activities.

The two wizards allowed another piece to fly halfway across the dusty wooden floor, hitting the heel of Sirius's boot. He looked down at the half broken knight still holding the reins of his trusty steed and leaned over to pick up the piece, tossing it back to the gaming wizards. In the corner of his eye, he caught his acquaintance deeply hiding her identity behind a tattered old menu while pretending to absorb the information of her ancient book.

A deep bark-like chuckle quietly harbored within his throat that forced a full smile out of him. He held up two fingers to Madam Rosmerta, who promptly delivered two bubbling butterbeers to his mute request and pushed off from the wooden bar he was anchored to.

Slow, confident steps started in her direction. A booted foot kicked out the chair from a neighboring table to allow him to fall into it like a sack of potatoes right in front of her. His eyes glinted with a flirtation she dare not toy with.

"Please don't tell me you're reading in a pub my dear, Rose." Sirius announced loud enough for nearly everyone to take attention. "That's so incredibly depressing."

Hermione's entire body jolted at the sudden presentation of him. Defeated, she shook her head to herself and carefully folded her hands in her lap perfectly mannered as she waited for him to get the insults out of his system. She tilted her head to one side, encouraging him to finish as if she expected nothing less.

When he noticed the hint of embarrassment, he slowly smiled as he bested her. He ran a free hand through his dark locks as he slouched in his chair, kicking one leg up on the neighboring table to recline like a Greek God. His head tilted back and he held up one of the two mugs in the air to offer her a toast.

She was stone to him; her lip turned up just an inch as she impatiently waited for him to stop preening for her. She feigned boredom and lack of being impressed.

Feeling the sensation that he was bothering her or worse, being ignored, he kicked his foot down, sat up straight and leaned over the table to speak privately to her. "No one comes to a pub to read, love. I can't let you do that to yourself. Now, finish your butterbeer, because I've already got another one for you."

Before resetting himself back into the casual, relaxed preening position with his foot on the nearby table, he pushed the filled mug closer towards her. A few drops spilled over the rim and landed on the parchment of her book.

Unamused, Hermione pulled the book out of harms way, closing it and tucking it back into her satchel that rested on the floor next to her feet. Afterwards, she returned her elbows to the table and barely looked at the frothing beer. "You really shouldn't have."

"Usually, witches gush when I buy them a drink." He wasn't used to being overlooked. Still, something about her cried out a challenge for him and he hoped to bait her more, because her snarky remarks were beginning to become a strange turn on for him. "Guess you're a different sort. Hip-hip."

"Chin-Chin…you have no idea." She raised the heavy glass mug to her lips and politely sipped off the rim.

Delicate, neat manicured fingers folded in front of her. A dramatic contrast to the likes of the normal barflies Sirius was so used to seeing at the Three Broomsticks. Occasionally, there might be a temptation of an afternoon fling, but lately the pickings have been slim, but as his eyes scanned the outline of a tightly bound bosom things were looking better.

"You're not going to let me find you out, are you?" Sirius baited as he flipped back a lock of hair that had fallen in his vision. He was carefully studying her, pursing his lips in thought, waiting to discover some small tidbit of weakness from her.

The tone of his voice was that of a suggested challenge, but Hermione had to play the upper card. Leaning back in her seat, her head resting against the hard wall behind her, she posed like one of the boys as she held her mug a bit more masculine. "I'm not looking to let anyone find me out."

His intrigue for this new girl heightened and he took his foot down to lean closer into their conversation. Close enough to touch, she was able to see the way his face was so fresh and young, not a laugh line on him. Crows feet had not yet aged him and his cheeks were full and tight. Black hair framed his face, enhancing his dark eyebrows.

With a look of steel, Hermione did not give in to his charm. His voice was low, suggestive. "So, you like games, then?"

Sirius would not accept the smell of defeat. Her eyes had glanced down too many times to remain unmoved and uninterested. Her free hand had since taken up twirling a lock of her hair; a sure sign of unconscious attraction.

"No, so don't start." She said with an affirmative tone as she sipped her beer a bit more brash for lady manners. Her eyes glanced up, briefly admiring the way his necklace dangled so nicely against the hint of his chest. "So, do you have a purpose to being out or are you just enjoying disrupting me? I could have been doing something very important."

He leaned back in his seat, again. Foot still on the floor, incase he had the urge to lean forward again and entice her, but his lips frowned over her subtle rejection. "I'm meeting my mate, here. He works just around the corner, so we usually pop in for a pint at times."

"Oh, Remus? The one from the bookstore?"

For a moment, Sirius tilted his head as if intrigued she knew anything about his life. "Yes, you know him? Should have known. He's more your type than anything."

Hermione lowered her eyes down to the rigid divots in the table and not to his lips when they moved so poetically. "Ah, no. But, I saw him here the other night...with you, in fact. Singing your heart out, you were. Quite a fetching sight. I'm guessing that was one of your best moments."

Sirius went to answer at first, but he stopped in mid wording, catching the fact that she was having a go at him. His lips curved into a hesitant smile as he furrowed his brow. Like a cautious animal he looked her over carefully, watching her every move. He strummed his resting hand quietly, allowing a single finger to tap slowly against the table like a drawn out drip. "Rose," he started with a mischievous question in his voice, "are you having a go at me?"

Momentary triumph filled the air and the smell was too sweet to neglect. The harder side of her broke through, resenting a tinge of guilt over her otherwise hasty choice of words. "In a way. I'm sorry. Your singing was endearing. Not charming mind you, but tasteful, nonetheless. Didn't know it was possible to burp out three lines in a row of 'Drunken Sailor'. You have a talent, at that."

The front door to the pub swung open, knocking a few shrunken heads around in the midst. The tall sandy haired wizard wearing a shabby coat that looked like it might have belonged to his father, stepped quietly as he scanned the room for his friend. His tired eyes rested on the back of the midnight locks he so often watched speeding away on an enchanted motorbike. Further scanning and he noticed Sirius was speaking to the pretty girl from the bookstore the other day. He watched the two carefully; her eyes stern, friendly, but not flirty. She failed to have the typical body language complete with stars in her eyes like so many others that met his best mate.

Sirius was still enraptured in conversation with his company, scandalized by her brash words. He loved it. He was watching her every move to find something, anything, about this girl that seemed to capture him with her sharp tongue.

"Are you for real?" His words played with her like a riddle. His eyes lowered and his chin bowed like a prince trying to see honesty in a gypsy. He _had _to know her.

"I'm very real, I hate to say." Hermione set down the heavy mug that she seemed to only dent the contents of. His question rose thoughts in her head. Thoughts she knew were beginning to resemble guilt. He was learning too much and she had started to tread a little too far. If he was daring enough to play with her, then there was no doubt that she had already left an impression on him. "It's who I am."

Like watching a skilled actor, she seemed to take his breath away for a moment. Or at least he found himself watching her a little longer than normal. He lightly shook his head, resting comfortably in his chair, his boot back up on the nearby table and a serene smile resting over his lips.

"Fine, you win." His voice was deep again, trying to charm her into meeting his eyes. "I give up. I won't try you anymore. I get the hint." He reached for a dirty napkin that lay between them and waved it like a surrendering white flag.

In her peripheral, she saw him toss back his head to chug from his mug, clearing his face of his long romantic locks. Strong hands with a ring or two held the glass handle tightly and she saw a bit of his strong forearm flexing as he set it down.

Her face suddenly brightened as a visitor found them in the haze of smoke and sage, "Hello!" The sound of her own voice was almost out of character, but she quickly brought it down to a meager warm greeting.

Sirius turned his head casually, as if not expecting anyone very important. He had been otherwise smitten with said lady's sharp tongue that he almost forgot that he was meeting Remus.

Like flipping a switch, Sirius went from cool and poised to excited child on the morning of Christmas. Seeing any of his mates brought a certain spark in him, as if finally seeing through after the smoke cleared knowing that his friends had also survived another day in the war they seemed to be in. Feeling a great sense of comfort now that his friend had met him, he smiled proudly as he welcomed the sense of peace that his shabby friend was still breathing in the skin he was in.

It was known that Sirius valued his surrounding second family, making his brethren of fighters from the Order a priority knowing that they lived to die for one another. The glimmer of a twinkle met his eye as he looked fondly at his friend as he sat down to rest in the vacant spot next to Hermione on the bench.

Remus nodded to Hermione as his eyes politely requested the space next to her, seeing as her tiny table barely allowed two, a third would have been ridiculous. He set down his tattered old satchel, filled with brand new second hand books, onto the second table and waved a greeting to the bar mistress who offered him a friendly wink.

With a slight twirl in her step and a light airy gesture, Madam Rosmerta had filled a chilled mug with butterbeer and removing her wand from her bodice top. With a graceful hand that was poised to conduct an orchestra, she carefully enchanted the frosty drink into the air and gently glided it towards the humble wizard that walked in Sirius's shadow.

As Sirius's eye caught the soaring beverage overhead passing by his midnight crown, his entire body spun around in his chair positively wounded. A barking voice and an assertive finger were aimed at the elegant woman with her hair wrapped up in oak barrettes. "You never do that for me!"

Using the protection of the ancient wooden bar between them, Madam Rosmerta leaned over provocatively, offering him a glance at her heaving bosom tightly wrapped and concealed, as she pouted her lower lip. "You still have to work for it, Sirius," she said with a curt, yet playfully charming voice.

Mischief met his widening eyes as he encouraged the challenge with a signature wink. His heart rate increased as his imagination began to run its course. A steady hand ran through his unruly black hair and he turned back around, closing his eyes and imagining the older witch naked with syrup smeared all over her...

"Have I interrupted something?" Remus was beginning to feel the awkward silence between he and the new young witch; it was like interrupting a proper date until Sirius started to fantasize about Rosmerta, again.

Sirius opened his eyes, bringing himself back to the present day after his momentary mental walk, returning to the company of the young witch and his best mate. "No, of course not. You know, Rose, I take it?"

Remus smiled as he learned her name, looking over her soft face, as if for the first time. Learning her name was something he wouldn't have gotten as far with, as he often played the shy unapproachable type. If it wasn't for his keen knowledge on books, the Dark Arts, or magical beasts, young witches studying for the O.W.L.s would never have a reason to speak to him. That was Sirius and James's territories. Peter, on the other hand, was never something to talk about, because it seemed that whatever was passed up from the first two, Remus was often too picky and thus, Peter would have his turn. After all, he was always there.

Remus tilted his head slightly, in the fashion of trying to allow her a fair non-threatening introduction. His eyes glistened peacefully, like looking into the honest soul of a submissive animal.

Hermione felt a calming sensation fall over her, the same way it did the first time she met him on the train to Hogwarts so many years ago. A gentle man tortured by an incurable disease, left to live a life of danger and seclusion, until Sirius would return.

"Hello...Remus," he introduced. The disheveled looking wizard offered his free hand that wasn't cold from the condensation of the butterbeer mug. His layered locks fell into his face and he tossed his head back to clear them.

"Hello," Hermione smiled, "Rose, nice to meet you." Hermione adopted the nickname, unbeknownst to Sirius who was otherwise kicking loose dirt from his boot onto the dirty wooden floor below him.

"May I join you?" Ever polite, Remus still asked permission from the two of them; even though it was he Sirius was meeting.

Sirius flipped his head up as if hearing his voice for the first time. He slammed his hand down hard on the table, alerting the entire pub of his presence. "Don't be silly, Remus. Cheers!"

Sirius raised his mug in the air toasting his friend and continued to take a deep chug, nearly consuming the rest of it. He took a deep breath after setting it down and wiped his mouth like a three year old on the sleeve of his shirt.

"So, how goes the reading?" Remus asked, tapping a finger on the table. What sounded like a generic attempt at conversation, he was otherwise truly interested in the book she had purchased.

Hermione turned her head, grateful for the momentary distraction from the handsome sideshow that insisted on drawing attention to himself as he preened. She cleared her throat and started, "It's good. Really good theories in the history of time travel."

"I've heard it's quite inspiring. I met someone the other day that said they were interested in doing some experiments with Time Turners in order to prevent certain wars or diseases from happening." Remus offered his insight like a warm familiar, so much so that Hermione almost forgot that she was supposed to act like she didn't know him.

There were many times that she and Remus would discuss certain readings, boring the rest of the house to turn into bed early. A couple of times they had to remind themselves that they were two vastly different generations with special personalities.

"Really?" Hermione found the idea intriguing, but feigned innocence to remain on the safe side.

"Yes, of course the Ministry is petitioning against it. They believe that all that has happened is what makes us up. I guess we should agree to a certain point, but I know that if I had one to go back and change a few things from happening, I would." Remus gave a sly glance over to Sirius, but he wasn't paying the least bit attention to their conversation.

Like a child noticing something shiny, he was easily distracted by the gaggle of witches on their hen night. With loud laughter and squeals, they were each challenging one another by seeing who could deep throat their bottle the furthest. Once Sirius caught their eye, they'd erupt in a fit of immature laughter that otherwise taunted him with doing something very dangerous.

Remus lightly shook his head, unamused and slightly embarrassed. "The Ministry also came out and said that if we had the immediate ability to time travel, then it would inhibit our responsibility."

"That's funny, because..." Hermione leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and about to deepen the conversation, when Sirius caught her eye.

Looking over in unison, she and Remus watched the third wheel of their discussion winking so much towards the witches, you'd think his eyes had completely dried out. Hermione almost asked Remus if his friend was all right and that he hadn't suffered from some sort of seizure, but she bit her tongue. Their sudden silence pulled Sirius's attention away and back to them where he just laid on a guilty smile like they'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

The guilty smile rested only halfway as he leaned back into their conversation, resting his elbows on the table. His manicured hands that wore two to three rings on each, including one on his thumb, held up his mug before him and helped finish the contents that swam in the remaining foam.

"How about a shot?"

Hermione sighed, feeling the inside of her heart deflating like a wilting balloon. Her brief moment of intellectual stimulation was cut short by the invasion of provocative alcohol. She leaned back against the bench and crossed her legs, twitching her foot as she held out on his bait.

The lips of the pretty man curved into mischief as he tried to coax her with a subtle stare and smirk. Like stone, she shook her head, "No, thank you."

"What? Firewhisky doesn't appeal to you? Too rich for your brainy blood?" Sarcasm met Sirius's voice and he danced with the idea of teasing her to be that stereotypical book reader if his best friend wasn't just like her.

Biting her lip, showing definite defiance, she slowly shook her head not displaying a hint of weakness. Not even when his deep dark eyes were beginning to call to her like a mysterious puzzle. She couldn't help but admit that she was definitely intrigued with his childlike attitude with nearly everything. Far from the reserved mature Sirius he was destined to be, seeing him in this character was almost tragic when reminded of his unfortunate early departure. Her thoughts briefly returned to her mission of knowing him, warning him, helping him. If there was just some way that she might be able to return to her time to discover just a hint of this former person, still trapped within, then perhaps Hermione might discover a way to unleash it. For now, she had to wait. She would only observe him and see where it might lie.

"No. I just choose not to do a shot of that. I will, however, do another mug of butterbeer to meet yours. After all, I am one ahead." Unable to sustain much longer, she couldn't help but bite the corner of her lip in jest, lowing her inhibitions just a wee bit.

Remus just finished the last slurp of his own mug and he set it down loudly, breaking up the tension. "I'll get it."

As his mate stood and passed them, Sirius barked out to him, "Get two shots, Remus!"

"You want two?" Remus called back as he approached the bar, getting Madam Rosmerta's attention with a kind wave.

"Yeah! One for you, one for me!" He didn't even look at his friend, he just yelled over his shoulder. His eyes were focused on Hermione who sat like a frigid statue across from him at the small table. Like a petite boulder, he felt compelled to move her somehow. Mesmerized by her flippant tongue and her wholesome appearance, he was intrigued far too deep to tear away from her.

The old pub started to bustle louder. A few more patrons consisting of two more trolls, an ogre, two wizards with long graying beards like Dumbledore's and a centaur leaning in through an open window made up some of the chatter that ricocheted off the wooden and tin walls. With different accents and volumes, the room got louder every time Madam Rosmerta made her rounds by the sound of her clicking boots.

To everyone's ignorance, no one noticed the dark robed individual that quietly breathed in through the pub entrance like a breeze through a window. It ducked low, hunching almost, avoiding the squalling shrunken heads that insisted on announcing everyone's arrival and departure like a train conductor with an attitude. Long shredded sleeves covered the arms, tattered charcoal colored robes worn tall on the stranger and a low hood hid their identity. The cloaked individual by-passed the bar; Madam Rosmerta paid no attention and instead was accepting compliments and proposals of marriage from drunken barflies that perched on stools. The dark arrival moved quietly and unnoticed, keeping their head low trying to remain unrecognized, but taking his time to find the party in question.

The sound of a barreling barking laugh filled the air, followed by a strong slam on the wooden table Sirius was sitting at. Two short shot glasses with the remnants of an amber liquor sat before him, neighboring a half a dozen empty beer mugs that collected from the small gathering. Remus looked otherwise amused and Hermione was definitely entertained, but too bashful to show how much. Instead, her eyes fluttered unconsciously for him as she rested her chin on her wrist to gaze at him in a romantic fashion. A few seconds into said gazing and Hermione immediately stopped, straightened her back and shoulders and carried on like a normal human being.

The stranger approached the trio, carefully masking his steps with the sounds of scraping chairs on the dusty floor. The chess playing wizards took no notice to the way he practically floated in, making no sound. He hid his steps amongst the normal pub noises, using it as an audible blanket.

Minus expected dramatics, the mysterious being lunged forward and grabbed Sirius by the neck, holding him tight in a headlock. His two-person company jolted, staring in awe as the shrouded intruder with shredded tendrils for arms took no mercy and tightened its hold on Sirius.

Both wizards reached for the wands, but it was Hermione that was nearly about to faint when she heard the deep voice growling from under the dark hood, "Sirius Black, I want your soul!"


	9. The Aggressive Pub

_A note from Serade Black:__ I try NOT to be predictable, but in the last chapter I guess I was wrong. So many of you sleuths guessed correctly, so that tells me I am getting a slight bit rusty. I will try and throw some less than obvious surprises in for the rest of the journey. Thank you so much for your patience. My sweet Beta has taken just as long with me as well, my apologies. I feel that now I can finally push passed some of the "filler" or "necessary stuff" that I needed to insert and finally start a decent relationship between the two of them that will eventually ripple...or will it? A comment has been made about Sirius's eye color - on this, you'll have to forgive me. Though a serious error, I am referring to the Sirius in the film - Gary Oldman. I hope this doesn't ruin too many of my readers minds and I'm sorry for this remark. I'm trying to catch all my continuity errors, but then again, I might just slug it off as it being "just my style." SB_

Ch. 9 - **The Aggressive Pub**

Hermione's throat started to close up, her hands beginning to shake just slightly having seen the strange being grab her company with such fierce strength. The room didn't feel as cold and the bar patrons did not stop in mid chug of their frothing butterbeers to see the stranger coming inside the ancient pub. Its arms weren't as bony...arms?

Sirius struggled at first he felt his restraint, but then relaxed when the person couldn't hide their familiar voice, even when he tried to lower it an octave or three, sounding more like a very large woman with a gland problem.

"James, you git!" Sirius's whisper was throaty and he turned around to stand before his mate that was hiding his identity, while looking like a short Dementor-in-training.

Hermione's shoulders fell, her own heart beat subsiding and she rested against the back of her seat to relax from her sudden startle. She laid her wand on the table before her and sighed greatly; shaking her head that it wasn't a true threat. Just a sad prank.

James Potter had arrived.

"Prongs, what are you doing here mate?" Remus stood to shake his friend's arm as well, moving over onto the bench next to Hermione to let James take the seat he had occupied.

"Wormtail told me you two were meeting for a pint. When I told him I really shouldn't come out again, he suggested I just dress up. He even brought me the robes and everything," James explained, looking around for wherever his friend had gotten off to. "He was right behind me before I came into the pub. Not sure where he went off to, now."

"Really? Not a bad disguise. Though, I will say you look like a total tosser," Sirius said as he patted James on the back, making a dramatic scene to wipe his hand off on his jeans to show disgust of his costume.

"Sorry I missed you at the house, mate. Lily said you'd just left by the time I got home. Harry not give you problems then?" James asked, taking away the butterbeer that sat in front of Sirius, commandeering it as his own.

Sirius smiled as he shook his head and thought fondly of the small boy in discussion, "No, Harry's a good boy. He'll grow up to be more like me after I'm done with him. You'll see!"

James set down his mug after a deep chug and looked over at his friend, while keeping his head hidden under the hood, "Merlin, he'll be thrown in Azkaban before he's old enough to start Hogwarts!"

Peter Pettigrew was beginning to come into the clear, waddling through the crowded pub trying to balance two butterbeers and a bowl of peanuts he'd taken from the bar. Stepping carefully over the small mice that scurried on the floor searching for sanctuary, he tried to show deference and give them the right of way. After he was cleared a path, he weaved and bobbed through the various wizards that were beginning to pile into the pub from apparating from a Quiddtich match. Their faces still painted in their favorite team colors.

Sirius looked over and saw Wormtail coming their way and he immediately stood up and vacated his seat for him to sit down, finding the opportunity to sit close to Hermione on the bench, just like Remus had. As the butterbeers were set down, Sirius took one to replace the one James stole and the five of them crowded around the tiny table looking like giants in comparison.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" James tilted his head; the candlelight illuminated his features.

For a fleeting moment, she smiled briefly at having seen the face of her best friend. Same hair, same nose, same chin, different eyes. Her heart raced as she whispered, "Harry" in her mind, but as quickly as she was exhilarated, she was immediately torn with the tragedy that Harry will never know him beyond dreams. Hearing his voice was a little too close to home and she hadn't realized how long she'd remained silent, until Sirius spoke for her.

"This is my future wife, Rose. Rose, this is James. He was never here," Sirius introduced. He reached out and patted the top of her hand that rested politely on the dingy table.

The sudden contact, though just a brief touch, made her glance over at the handsome young man that sat too close to her. Meeting his eyes, now at this close proximity, she could see why women just fell over themselves at their depth. Dark pools of glistening black diamonds over a statuesque face, smelling so good she almost found herself leaning in to breathe in deeper...damn he was a good wizard.

She shook her head, collecting herself from her momentary hypnotism, and smiled warmly to the hooded one that hovered over his beer mug like a warm fire. "Nice to meet you," she practically whispered. She extended her hand for a greeting, the same one that Sirius had patted so softly, in order to get it away from him should he decide to find the opportunity to do it again.

"Nice to meet you. This is Peter, our fourth best mate, since you've already met Remus," introduced James. The Harry look-a-like nodded towards the chubby bumbling one that occupied most of the chair with his portly size.

Such a contrast in appearance, the three other wizards were like muggle GQ models compared to the swine of the fourth. A subtle chill ran up Hermione's spine, forcing her to swallow lightly at the sudden jolt. Feeling immediate loathing for Peter, having known his future, a taste of disgust sat on her tongue over the betrayal he was planning to the man that sat to his right.

Like viewing into a history book, she could only compare it to what Harry first saw their second year at Hogwarts with Tom Riddle's diary. How he was transplanted right into the past, much like looking in a Pensieve, to view memories. Only this time, she was becoming part of them. The Time Turner law strictly states not to be seen, but that was otherwise admitted it was just a tale to frighten users. Otherwise, how else would she have gotten to her classes to begin with? They saw her sitting at the desk. But, it was she sitting there, taking up space between two wizards she otherwise knew to be twenty years her senior and the ones across from her dead.

But, her heart still felt torn as she laid eyes on the two other men. Both celebrities in their own right, one trying not to be noticed and the other desperately searching for acceptance. James Potter smiled unknowingly as the chubby repulsive looking young man sitting next to him looked rather dreamy to be a part of such a circle. She couldn't help but bite her tongue, purse her mouth not to frown and try and be polite for a first meeting. She knew that if she looked directly into his eyes, she would want to blurt something out, so she stared at the center of his forehead, instead.

Holding her breath and feigning good manners, she extended her other hand towards the man that already had his out for her to shake. "Hello, nice to meet you as well," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Hello my dear," he charmed innocently. "Can I get you a butterbeer?" His voice was kind, sincere even, and he had a blank look in his eyes that showed no hatred. His guilt was easily masked.

Nodding politely, not giving any indication that he was to become a full-blooded traitor, she declined. "No, thank you. This is my fifth."

James chuckled to the crew, his eyes right on Sirius that sat back casually against the bench. His arms open, snaking one behind Hermione's shoulders, but resting it on the back of the bench she leaned against. The determined hunter was already targeting his prey disguised in a brainy witch that easily consumed four and a half pints of butterbeer. He was in love.

"Are you trying to get this poor girl drunk, Sirius?" James pushed back the sleeves of his Dementor costume, raising an eyebrow in question, but very obvious to Hermione that gave a slight grin at the corner of her mouth.

"No," Remus answered in defense.

"Yes!" Sirius barked.

In a second, Hermione snapped her head to the guilty verdict on her right as she discovered his hidden motive. In turn, he only just smiled and gave her a wink, allowing her to see that he was only checking that she was paying attention to him.

A half hour later, they all were on another round of butterbeers, except for Sirius who seemed to be taking his time on the last one. Sitting protectively close to Hermione, he had a plan. He wasn't to get too intoxicated, so as to learn more about this brainy witch with dark tendrils falling over her shoulders. Proving that some strange cosmic force was directing his attention for this girl, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was something not of his world.

Remus had kept a keen eye on her as well. He didn't know why his best mate was warming up to the less than glamorous girl. With her hair swept up in tiny barrettes and the simple "church" attire, she was more his type than Sirius's. But good old Padfoot was more aggressive and proactive than Remus, and like always, he would sit back and allow his friend to have the good time.

"So, Rose, where are you staying? You say you're just visiting?" The wizard with the dark wire rimmed glasses questioned, as he lifted the remainder of his mug to his lips.

It was truly uncanny. So many times, Hermione would glance over and see Harry sitting there. Just as handsome, just as kind, but then the laugh. It was not Harry's laugh, but that of a more confident, less humble man. James Potter had been a spoiled little boy growing up, so money was never a problem much like Sirius. Which is why all their years together were spent goofing off and being chased by muggle police while on the back of Sirius's motorbike.

"I'm staying at my Aunt's house in Notting Hill. She's off working, so I've got the run of the house," Hermione hiccupped.

She reached out for her empty mug and lifted it to her lips hopeful, but when the last drop came sliding down the inside of the glass, the look of disappointment should have been a Rockwell painting.

"How long have you been in America? Did you enjoy it?" Remus asked with a smirk. She amused him with her knowledge and expressions.

"For awhile, now. I rather like it," she started to say, trying to sound convincing, hiding her true state of intoxication.

She heard her own words beginning to slur, so she was careful with what she said in order to not give anything away. She continued on with the back story about being in school in America, hoping that the questions would cease. All the while, Sirius remained attentive. He appeared to be studying her, as if she were a complicated puzzle.

Further adding to her obvious state, Hermione erupted into a fit of uncontrollable giggles over what appeared to be nothing. Perhaps it was something that Sirius had said about his insatiable thirst for milk after a night of good drinking that hadn't quite been explained, but regardless, Hermione found the statement funny enough to cover her face into Sirius's shoulder to not let anyone see her.

"Never thought this one would be the one to lose it," Madam Rosmerata said. She was leaning over and clearing empty mugs off the table, nodding towards Hermione who was otherwise trying to stifle a giggle by covering her mouth and trying to compose herself.

James and Remus were ordering another round, which ended in a very loud chorus of "Roll Your Leg Over" into a drunken "What Would You Do with a Drunken Sailor?" Knowing these from around the house, hearing loud evenings from Sirius and Harry at times, Hermione joined in, giggling her way through the chorus fitting in just fine.

After the singing, James was glancing at his watch and noticing the time. He was only allowed so much time out, before Lily started to worry that he'd been picked up by Death Eaters. It was already a risk for him to go out to such a popular pub, but he was well protected by his three best friends. That and the fact that Madam Rosmerta never allowed anyone to pull their wands out in her pub in dispute. So, he was probably in one of the safest places out there.

"You're out?" Remus asked as he stood and extended his hand to his friend.

"Yes, I'm sure the baby is keeping Lily up and I really need to be on the look-out. We'll continue another night, right mates?" James asked. He was staggering just a small bit on his own two feet as gravity started to play games with his equilibrium. "Rose dear, it was good to meet you. Have Sirius bring you 'round the house sometime so you can meet Lily. I think you two would get on great."

Hermione's eyes sparkled, like being teased with the elixir of life, or just to view through the open window of history she was only told about. She remembered visiting the small village of Godric's Hollow. She remembered visiting the grave of the man that stood proud and bright, eager to get home to his wife and son. For a second, Hermione frowned as she saw him leaving. A strong part of her wanted him to stay so she could tell Harry more of the memory that she shared drinks with him. An even more dubious side of her wanted to tell James to move, to get to another safe house and that in the end, the pudgy man that sat next to him all chummy was going to turn, if he hadn't already.

But, she couldn't. It wasn't part of her ethics. She would destroy so much of what everyone already knew and it was strictly forbidden if using the Time Turner. However, it didn't help her tugging heartstrings as she glanced up and watched Sirius and James embrace. Looking at one another like brothers, knowing that if it wasn't for Lily and Harry, the two would live out their years dabbling in adventures and getting chased by muggle police. It was touching to see the bond the two young men had for one another and a trust like that was just as good as blood. It was no wonder why Sirius sometimes accidentally referred to Harry as James; she often did the same herself. The likeness was uncanny, the characteristics very similar, but it was because the older Sirius missed his friend so dearly that tripped his tongue once in awhile.

A chuckle in their throats, one more pat on the back and they bid their good nights. Without a doubt, the men strongly believed he was safe. Nothing was going to happen, other than just the threat, but that threat was what they thrived on. Remus was the only one that took it serious enough, having to remind James to put his hood back up so he wouldn't be recognized. However, by their reputation, who else would they think the mysterious fourth wizard sitting with them would be?

"Rose, again, good to meet you. See you around," James gave one more good-bye as Remus walked him out for an extra safe measure. He couldn't be too careful these dark days.

As Sirius slumped back down comfortably in the seat next to Hermione, she couldn't help but glance a side eye at the way he smiled to himself, having known that he was surrounded by good people. A strong bond between he, Remus, Peter and James that would never break...or so he thought. As her eyes traveled over his face unsuspectingly, she could imagine what he was thinking as he appeared so content, that it was no surprise how lonely Sirius was going to be in his adult years. Left with only Remus, his circle had been broken, tainted, and trust was going to be very hard for him to do when he returned from Azkaban.

Hermione returned her eyes to her remaining butterbeer and though her mind was swimming right now, she felt compelled to finish her mission at whatever cost. It was going to be too painful to watch him fall apart, should she stay so close to Halloween.

"Sirius?" A meek voice asked from beside the table.

He turned his head to look up into the alluring charm of another young blonde with curls to her waist. She was dressed quite trendy, with a denim mini-skirt, tights and small heels. Her t-shirt reflected the stretched dates of the latest Weird Sisters tour and she looked down at him with a frown that was enough to break Hermione's heart.

The witch glanced over at Hermione and pursed her lips in slight envy, "Are we still on for tomorrow? You said about two, right?"

Sirius smiled wide and reached for the curly blonde's hand like he was already trying to smooth things over. "Yes, love. I'll be there."

"Great," she said with a clean smile. But, then her eyes turned into daggers as she glared over at Hermione, "Then, who's that?"

Hermione was just about to take a drink from her near empty mug when she held up a hand, as if excusing herself, "Oh, I'm no one. Don't worry! Don't mind me. I'm here with...with...Remus!" Hermione looked about the room, right over Peter's hopeful head and gestured to the handsome light brown-haired wizard that was just coming in from outside.

Sirius looked back at Hermione with a stern brow, looking extremely disappointed, while holding the other witch's hand. "Bridgette, love, I'll be there," he added with a soothing tone.

Putting on the smoothest charm, the most dazzling smile and a voice that could melt butter on a winter night, his eyes were sincere for the pretty witch that gazed upon him as if he were Merlin's gift to witches everywhere. With an obvious sigh, she reached up to tickle under his chin, scratching the stubble affectionately and then turned away after a last death glare at Hermione.

With raised eyebrows over the brief catty scene, Hermione switched her empty mug with Sirius's half full one he was neglecting. With a snort she added, "She's a pleasant one. Well done, there."

Remus chuckled under his breath, masking it as a cough, followed by Sirius hiding his amusement and like any follower, Peter laughed last.

Sirius shook his head, staring at his now empty mug, shrugging it off like it didn't matter to him what either witch thought. It wasn't enough to make him lose sleep over what had transpired, but it was enough to make him look otherwise uninterested in how Bridgette's feelings may have been hurt. A silence briefly fell over him as he took a few minutes to mull it over, but it wasn't long before his interest returned to the three people that hovered around the small pub table with him.

The remaining four were quite jovial from an outside eye, but Hermione knew how many rules she was breaking. Damage control down the line was going to be slightly significant. As soon as her head cleared.

The cool air woke Hermione up as she stepped outside the door of the pub. A breeze with the stagnant smell of burning wood somewhere off in the distance reminded her that this wasn't a time to not think clearly. She needed her wits about her after she said good-bye to Peter and Remus who were off to apparate home, leaving her alone with Sirius and his motorbike.

As two "pops" were heard from around the corner, Hermione tried to immediately break any uncomfortable silence before it began and set off in another direction to keep her apparating point private.

"Good night," she waved, turning her back on him before he could get a word in, but she was too slow.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sirius asked walking over to his motorbike. It was parked on the sidewalk, as if he had a private space reserved.

She stopped in mid stride, freezing as if she'd just gotten caught doing something illegal. She slowly turned around, ready to face her fate, watching him unbuckle his saddlebags that hung over the back of the bike. With a cool attitude and a brief flip of his wild locks falling in his face, his dark eyes met hers as he took out a pair of leather gloves. He undid their Velcro, slipped them on, and wiggled his fingers in their leather constraints with an allure that mesmerized her, learning that he took riding his motorbike very serious. He was so casual with the way he stood, his hip slightly cocked, his knee bent and his shoulders straight back. He finished fastening his gloves and took out his keys, standing there and looking at her as if he were waiting on something.

Hermione felt her ears buzzing and she quickly swallowed to hide her nerves. He had that arrogant beautiful look that was almost getting too hard to look away. She'd seen that look before, that pause, that thoughtful face, but usually it was in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and usually twenty years older. Funny how after all those years, he still had the ability to charm, even when he wasn't even trying.

The pit of her stomach was beginning to turn and it wasn't due to the drink she had consumed, it was from standing there in the middle of the empty street in Hogsmeade with no one around to give her a better answer.

"I'm in another direction," she pointed away. "Thanks for the drinks, Sirius. Good night."

"No. Rose, come here."

Sirius walked away from his motorbike, coming closer as if to reach for her hand and take care of her. Like a timid animal, she pulled her hand closer to her body and backed away, holding onto the strap of her satchel protectively, as if ready to wield it at an attacker.

The sound of a cat crying from an alley behind her startled her for a second, adding to the hollowness of the small village that she was so used to seeing alive and thriving and not partially dilapidated with half hinged signs falling off their structures.

"You're not going home alone. Come on, get on," Sirius insisted with a tilt of his head. He reached out for her satchel that she clung so desperately to.

"Sirius, I'm fine. I can get home safely," she repeated. Her eyes were worried, taking small baby steps out of his reach. Her footsteps crunched fallen leaves that echoed their sounds off the nearby buildings.

He couldn't help but smirk when he thought about her not putting up much of a fight in that dress and sweater. She looked like a Sunday portrait, not a normal fit for a pub on a Friday night. Her wavy brown hair fell around her majestically as the wind picked up and blew it around her in an ethereal fashion. Still, he couldn't help but admit she looked incredibly pretty trying to look so defiant.

He reached for her bag again, but she gripped it firm, "Sirius, I'll sling it at you. I'm fine. I have my wand, I won't be attacked."

"Really, Rose?" He curved an eyebrow amused by her defense, but shook his head unconvinced. "Come on, get on. I'm taking you home, whether you like it or not. I can't let you out there." He was beginning to round on her, but she still clutched onto her bag as if prepared to use it as a weapon.

"Sirius, I'm fine!" She started to get nervous as he came closer with his head bowed down, his eyes narrowing in on her like a predator. She swallowed nervously and with a last defense, she took out her wand and pointed it at him ready to strike.

Sirius didn't even flinch, he only stared her down at wand point. He was fearless, or rather he was not afraid of her, "Sweetheart, you had enough butterbeers to tranquilize a hippogriff. By the way, your shoe is untied."

In a moment of weakness and intoxication, Hermione dropped her wand arm and glanced down at her flats. Not realizing the trick, she felt her wand easily yanked from her hand. She looked back up, scandalized and immediately defenseless. She wanted to struggle, but he was already tucking her wand in his back pocket and reaching for her satchel once again. She stepped around, when as a last effort, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her aggressively close against him.

"Look love, I don't know how long you've been away in America, but right now it's very dangerous out there. Death Eaters are lurking everywhere, Voldemort has no mercy and I truly don't want to see your pretty face in the obituaries of the Daily Prophet tomorrow, alright?" He practically spat in her face with his level of seriousness with the situation.

Hermione heard his words as they dripped off his tongue with severe passion. She had seen something like this from him before. Days before she left, he had pushed her up against the wall while standing on the stairs arguing with him at Grimmauld Place. Like then, Sirius held her tightly, focused on her and his eyes so intense she would not be able to distract him. He needed to get his point across and he needed to be forward with her.

Her mind started to swim, slightly intoxicated from the near half dozen butterbeers she had consumed. Her heart rate accelerated and she allowed herself the dangerous guilty pleasure of glancing down to his lips as he spoke to her with his hand pressed firmly across her back. Mesmerized by his strong whisper, he could have been professing poetry to her and it wouldn't have mattered. His eyes were like daggers and she had nearly pushed him to that level where he wasn't going to fuck around with her anymore. He had a method to his madness and with the way he held her, his point had been made. His hint of anger flirted with her the way it did on the stairs and for a glimmer of a second, she was momentarily aroused. His vent of authority was just what she needed at that moment to reinstate the reality of danger she was putting herself into as a collective whole.

She said nothing more and allowed him to take her bag freely, where he gently stuffed it into one of the saddlebags on his motorbike. She still stood motionless where he left her to put away her bag, but he did not display any guilt if he frightened her. It was for her own intoxicated good.

Sirius looked her up and down, considering she was wearing a skirt and grinned privately to himself, "Now, if you want to protect your modesty, you'll have to sit very close and hold on very tight."

His keys rattled in his hand as he threw a leg over his bike like a knight getting on horseback. One hand rested on the handlebars while the other fit the key into the ignition, refraining from turning over the engine.

When he glanced over at her, she stood still, assessing the situation through a blurred mind. She thought to herself how she was going to mount the bike and hold on while keeping it strictly platonic. Her look of curiosity was easily mistaken for fear and he spoke to her like as if she were a shy child.

"I don't bite, love," he said. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, trying to show a bit of remaining defiance that was retreating at the intimidation of the motorbike. He couldn't help but smirk and wink, adding, "Well, not unless you want me to."

This provoked an impatient sigh from her, complete with another eye roll and shake of the head as she approached the metal contraption that had just turned on with a flip of his wrist. The sound of the roaring bike idled loud at first, but like soothing a tiger it soon started to resign to a calm intimidating purr.

The sound alerted the herd of witches on their hen night of his departure and like a comedy trio, they piled out the door to watch Sirius prepare for his ride like fan girls at a concert. They huddled close together with a mixture of sighs and giggles as he barely noticed them leaving the pub to watch him. Hermione noticed and she had no time for their fawning so she threw a leg over the humming motorbike, sliding close to him to prevent her skirt from flying open.

The three witches watched enviously as Hermione situated herself tightly around the wizard, folding her hands around his stomach and pinching his hips with her thighs in order to protect her decency. The witches caught him glancing down at her hands; it was an absolute turn on for him whenever he had a rider on the back that was a gorgeous witch.

"You ready?" Sirius asked, patting her hands over his stomach.

Hermione closed her eyes, not at all turned on by this. She was holding onto the very person she came to save for her best friend and she needed to always keep that in mind. But, it was his intoxicating cologne that started to mess with her head to think otherwise and not the five pints she devoured. Any other witch would have gladly traded with her and the position she sat in. As she hugged him close for safety, she could feel the warmth radiating from his body in front of her. She tried to hide her rose colored cheeks as she knew that her panties were touching the back of his jeans and if she didn't distract her mind elsewhere, his movements were going to excite her against her own will. In her mind, she tried to justify that it was the only thing she could do in order to hide herself from the rest of the oncoming traffic. The fact that she was squeezing her muscles tighter than an oyster shell meant nothing.

"I suppose. Please, be careful. I'm not a big fan of flying, by the way," Hermione added, hoping he wouldn't take to the skies.

"Then, I'll be gentle for your first time, love."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly over his suggestive words. They dripped off his lips like warm lava and it chilled her to the core that he had said it to her. With the roar of the engine when he revved it up, it sent an erotic sensation when her body vibrated and she tightened her grip on him out of fear of falling off. She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling her heart pump faster and faster as she felt him kick off the sidewalk and put the motorbike in motion. It was only when the cool air hitting her cheeks did she risk opening her eyes.

Sirius's hands were tight on the handlebars, but his shoulders were relaxed like riding a motorcycle was as second to him as walking. He was calm and at peace, but having Hermione clinging to him made the moment complete. So often he rode the roads alone, but it was always something special to experience his ride with another. Whether it was a beautiful witch using him as a lifeline or James sitting behind him and holding on to the back of his own seat, not being by himself was like icing on the cake.

After slightly slurred directions upon apparating into the right neighborhood, Sirius was turning onto the quaint little street called Marley. Down past the little cottage houses, to the house down on the left, Sirius pulled up and stopped right before the white picket fence.

Sirius took one look at McGonagall's house, not knowing yet who it belonged to and chuckled under his breath, "This is quite cute. Definitely your taste."

With absolutely no grace, Hermione got off the bike almost tripping backwards as she lost her balance attempting to get her land legs again. In a flash, Sirius was at her side and reaching for her before she could fall down in a mess on the hard sidewalk. Up until that point, he questioned if she had ridden most of her intoxication off.

Finally standing on her own two feet, she pulled her windblown hair out of her face, "Thank you, but it's not my taste."

Sirius smiled and retrieved her bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he started towards the fence. He passed her and unlatched the front gate, letting it swing open for her.

With a slightly worried voice, she was quick to ask, "Where are you going?"

Shrugging his shoulders and walking ahead of her, "Well, it's customary for the wizard to walk the witch to the door."

Hermione dashed up the stoop before him, spinning around when she'd reached the door as if to stop him from thinking anything further. Her arms opened and she pretended to use her body as a shield between he and the front door.

He still carried her satchel, sharing the top step and standing very close to her. He leaned over her, making her feel incredibly uncomfortable as he invaded her personal space, "Or are you just not inclined to accept any acts of chivalry?"

He looked her once over, sensing a bit of weakness for him and caught the flutter of an eyelash. Hermione sighed, putting up an incredible mental wall, trying to show the most disinterest and otherwise unimpressed manner she could muster. However, his breathy words and close proximity was enough to make her heartbeat increase with a guilty pleasure. Unfortunately, her willpower was subsiding and she accidentally allowed herself to falter. In three very long seconds, she glanced down from his intense eyes, to his moistened lips, to the tightly bound onyx necklace that hung close to his neck above the last button that was undone on his shirt.

Still, she couldn't be mean to him, no matter how arrogant and positively alluring he was. He was still Sirius Black, a much older wizard that she had no interest and nothing in common with. Not even when he did gentlemanly things like walking her to the door, or making sure she got home safely or carrying her heavy satchel, that must have weighed at least thirty pounds, over his shoulder with such ease.

Hermione let out a heavy exhausted sigh and relaxed her shoulders in defeat. She appreciated his gesture, but she didn't want him so close.

"I need my keys," she said nervously. Frightened doe eyes looked up at the handsome wizard that knew what he was doing. She searched for any business to do, other than speak to him.

The side of his mouth curved and he offered access to her satchel, while still holding it for her. He saw her swallow before diving into her bag.

After hearing their own jingle, she slowly pulled them out and held them to her chest, considering using them as a weapon should he get fresh. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave any memory of herself behind when using the Time Turner, she could only assume that leaving marks on people had the same rules. But, then again, they didn't know Sirius Black.

Her heart was still racing from the motorcycle ride, or at least, that's what she was making herself believe. The fact that he remained standing so close to her meant nothing and she couldn't help but wonder if this moment was going to make it strange for them in the future. Part of her wanted to blurt out how wrong it was for him to have this obvious attraction to her, for the look in his eyes did not say he seeing her merely platonically. She swallowed again, unsure what to do next.

"Go ahead and open your door. I'm not leaving until I know you've gotten in safe," he nearly whispered. He was as stubborn as a mule. "I've stood on doorsteps longer."

"Because you wouldn't leave the witch alone?" Hermione teased, feeling his breath close over her face.

"Something like that."

Slowly turning around, feeling his eyes burning into the back of her head, she fumbled as quickly as she could to fit the right key into the lock. The sound of the keys jingled in her hand nervously as she racked her brain over what to say to make him leave.

With a click of the lock, a loud crash followed from inside the house. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat and immediately her hands froze. A thousand things raced through her mind, all believing that it was something she had already done to ripple through time and this was destiny's way of getting revenge.

Regardless, Sirius instinctively pressed up against the door as his ears perked to the disturbing sound. He gently reached for her arm, pulling her away from the door's opening and offered back her satchel as he stepped before her. Hermione just looked bewildered and before she could stop him, he was turning the handle of the yellow door to step inside the house.

"Wait here," he whispered protectively.

His hand had already reached for his wand as he ventured bravely into the dark house alone, putting himself before any possible danger.


	10. A Rose By Any Other Name

_A note from Serade Black: I'm so pleased to have another chapter out so quickly. I have refocused where I was going with this story and now it's finally getting a little bit more flushd out. Slow and steady is my motto, so thank you to all of those that are sticking with me. Due to recent additions to , I have discovered a really neat feature. It's called Reader Traffic and I can now see who is ready my stories worldwide. I was amazed, so this is the first time I'm happy to send sincere HELLOS to all those in other countries (Pakistan, Russia, Germany, Phillipines, etc...). I'm deeply touched and amazed how small this world truly is. Enjoy SB_

Ch. 10 - **A Rose by Any Other Name**

The small dollhouse-like cottage that Hermione had made a temporary home was still and dark. With no light on inside, it was completely black; the moonlight outside shone through the kitchen windows creating a silhouette of everything in the house.

"Use your wand for light," Hermione whispered to Sirius as he slowly stepped inside, bearing himself for anything.

He turned around and held a single finger up to his lips to silence her, "No, I see better in the dark."

Very quietly he moved into the house with feather-like steps like a shadow. Slinking into the hallway and blending into the darkness, he was almost completely unnoticed until the wooden floor creaked under his feet due to age. Though very good at night vision, he still kept one hand in front of him to warn him of walls or furniture that might be out of place. His other hand aimed his wand forward, ready to strike any intruder that might catch him off guard.

His ears peaked, his sense of smell straining itself, he sensed Hermione coming behind him. Disobeying his instructions, she illuminated her wand ahead of her and even with the dimmest light, she still cast shadows of themselves against the wall.

Nothing moved, all was still, but the grandfather clock in the foyer by the front door seemed to tick louder than it ever had. Quiet steps strived as they avoided walking into direct beams of moonlight as it splashed in from the open curtains in the small sitting room they carefully entered. With Hermione close behind him, using his body to shield most of her wand light tip, she looked ahead of him and tried to make out anything in the house that wasn't right.

At Sirius's feet, something scampered passed him when he'd reached the center of the small room. Acting fast, he pushed Hermione against the wall to safety and he dove into the kitchen right passed the archway that was lit like a path. He quickly ignited a small lantern that sat on the table top and turned around, his wand arm ready to strike.

Further light revealed a medium sized mutt breed had somehow entered the house and managed to knock over a stack of pans that were balancing in an underneath open cupboard. Not taller than two feet, he appeared to be quite the mix of a short golden retriever mixed with a dash of terrier.

Hermione hadn't yet seen the intruder where she was standing; she only heard Sirius sigh and then chuckle a relief. She illuminated a nearby lantern that sat on a hutch she had fallen into and let out a surprised 'yelp' as she watched the dog bounding over to Sirius, who was already on his hands and knees to comfort the stray.

For the seconds following, Hermione clutched her chest as she saw the happy wagging tail meeting her company. "Oh, Merlin!" she sighed. "I guess he must have...gotten in through the cat door." Hermione tilted her head towards the kitchen, noticing now there was a cut out pet door near the bottom.

"He's not yours then?" Sirius asked as he scratched the scruffy dog on his back, making his leg thump furiously. With a big grin, Sirius shook his head goofy, praising the dog and making funny sounds for him to be comforted as they played together on the oval rug in the middle of the sitting room.

"I would know if I had a dog. He's cute, though," Hermione said petting the furry canine with shaggy feet.

She took a moment to look around the small cottage, to check and see if anything else was out of place. Of course, she'd not spent enough time in that area to really take notice what would be in the wrong place. She was sure that the Professor would have said something if she had to take care of a dog. The scruffy mutt would have shown itself by now. Besides, everyone knew that Professor McGonagall was more of a cat person.

Hermione went to the loveseat to set down her satchel, while listening to Sirius "talk" to the dog with an endearing "ruff". As he hunched on all fours, mimicking the dog's movements, she couldn't help but smirk as the dashing motorcycle rider was no more.

Feeling watchful eyes on him, he looked up and cleared his throat for a moment as he composed himself, "I'm a bit of a dog lover."

Hermione stood, crossing her arms in front of her, and nodding her head as if she'd just discovered a hidden side of the arrogant one, "I gathered that."

"He's got a collar with an address. Lauley Street is only the next one over, so I can take him back," Sirius took to scratching the dog in a special spot behind his ear. "Probably just gallivanting around and checking out the neighborhood."

"Perhaps," Hermione agreed, still grinning from witnessing such a display of devotion. She nearly forgot that he was an Animagus that could also turn into a big black dog.

Hermione turned to go into the kitchen to put some water into a bowl for their new friend. Illuminating extra lights as she walked along, Sirius's eyes followed her every move.

He watched her carefully as it was obvious she hadn't gotten her bearings yet of where things were in the pastel country kitchen with floral blue curtains. Passing by various cookbooks that lined the countertop with odds and bobs of kitchen utensils, she opened several cupboards before finding the right one.

Her long brown hair bounced behind her, half restrained by a wooden barrette. She wasn't as glamorous as his normal type, nor did she pile on the make-up more than what was necessary to notice that she held a quiet natural beauty about her. A slim waist hid behind the slightly bulky jacket she still wore, but it was when she shed it before him after finding the bowl did he really get to appreciate her assets.

"Would you mind filling this up? I have to dash upstairs," she asked, already moving out of the kitchen passed him. "Those five pints..."

Sirius watched her hasten her steps towards the stairs in the foyer. Smiling to himself, he pushed up off the rug and gently patted the dog to follow behind him. The older house creaked its age as he listened to her footsteps above. Trying to shake off his exceptional sense of hearing, he busied himself with filling up the bowl in the sink for his furry friend.

As the short dog slurped happily, Sirius went back into the sitting room to better view her surroundings. What looked like an old lady's house, he gagged a little to himself as he really got an eyeful of the enchanting decorations of old portraits, peach colored furniture and statues of cats. Attempting to look like an elegant parlor, it was hard to get past the doilies that were accenting any and every flat surface with a vase or figurine placed on top of it. An old multi-colored afghan draped over the back of the love seat in a sandy beige color. A polished coffee table sat perfectly before it, stacked with several books and scattered papers of notes that were obviously Hermione's.

One of the books caught his interest, as it appeared to be quite old and the title had just about been worn off. Out of curiosity, he lifted the front cover and hummed to himself with his discovery. Next to it, another large worn book laid open and he checked the inside cover of that one; a third nearby read the same. Letting a small smile creep over his lips, it was good to see that the mystery was finally over.

A good sneeze from the kitchen indicated that his furry friend was done with the bowl of water and was making his way towards the sitting room, stopping momentarily for a pat from Sirius. With a snap of his fingers, the dog seemed to understand him and went towards the front door to stay out of the nice man's way. The adventure of the night obviously satisfied him and with a few kind words, the dog curled up to take a short nap until it was time to go.

"I know how that goes, my friend," Sirius whispered as the dog finally lay down after the third circle.

Folding his hands behind his back, he went to go and look over the portraits on the wall that were presently sleeping. Skimming the wall for something mildly interesting, he noticed some framed awards from the Ministry and Hogwarts, with a scrawled name that looked quite familiar. He did a double take when the award next to it reflected the same name.

Hermione was careful not to disrupt the napping guest by the front door when she went in to say good-bye to Sirius, who appeared to be reading the walls as if he were in a museum.

"Well, thank you for-"

"Is this Professor McGonagall's house?" Sirius asked cutting her off. He was still tilting his head to try and make out the cryptic writing of another award. His hair fell in his eyes and it looked like short little curtains had kept him from seeing her.

Swallowing at first, nervous he was asking questions, she replied, "Ah, yes, I'm her niece. She's letting me stay here for a little while." In the corner of her eye, she noticed her papers scattered on the coffee table, probably exposing some form of information that he shouldn't be aware of.

"Huh," Sirius chuckled, shaking his head after giving up trying to read the funny looking foreign language on another award. "Anyway, so will you meet me for dinner tomorrow night?"

As if he'd snuck up on her, she immediately jumped being caught off guard with such a casual request. Her breath hitched in her throat and she spun around to face him, blanking and without an answer. She was absolutely shocked, stunned and worse, unprepared.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. It was a cruel realization that she had come across the line too far, too far into his life, and now as he proposed a dinner date, there was the fear of not being able to back away slowly.

"I can't meet you for dinner, Sirius," she said slowly, more for her than him. "I...I..."

"Yes, you can," he nodded slowly, somewhat mocking her sweetly.

His invitation was so casual for it to roll of his tongue, as if he said that sentence all the time. But to her, she felt like the entire timeline of their lives was going to just twirl into a tornado and disappear into oblivion. She was chilled to the bone that those words were suggested in her presence that it was no wonder why wizards, or witches, went mad when using the Time Turner.

Oh, but he was so handsome to say no to. Those dark eyes shadowed by finely trimmed eyebrows, a perfectly cut jaw and a smile that seemed to make everything alright. Standing in the low light of the little sitting room, she found herself blinking a few times that she didn't see the older Sirius standing before her in younger threads.

She hadn't realized, in her hazy blurred mind of trying to make any and all excuse why they couldn't do dinner, he had taken a few steps closer.

"Meet me...Hermione."

Her eyes rushed to his as if his discovery was going to unthread their existence and for a moment, she panicked. But, it was a name he hadn't learned in his life yet and it dripped off his tongue in the most perfect way, it was like he invented it.

"You're the only one I've met that puts their name on the inside dotted line of old textbooks."

Hermione glanced away, appearing obviously beaten that she was unable to secure her real name. Sirius had given her a bit of hope by using a nickname, but now that it was out, there was no hiding it from him now.

"That's a name you're probably better off not knowing," she whispered solemnly, feeling guilty about ever coming back to begin with now that he'd found himself standing so close to her.

Sirius was finding it very hard to read her. She was timid, yes. She was shy, a bit. She was mysterious, no doubt. But, it was he saying her name that made him wonder more about her. Never had a dinner invitation caused a witch to react like this.

"It's a very pretty name, Hermione," he complimented.

She sighed, "Thank you."

The grandfather clock ticked quietly from the foyer, chiming once for the half hour. She could feel his eyes burning against her as she stood there like a wilting flower, showing complete disrespect from the casual invitation. A blow to his ego, certainly. He spoke before she had a chance to explain further.

"Well, as awkward as this is right now, I'm not going to push for dinner. Starting tomorrow, I will show up at three-thirty in Diagon Alley everyday, waiting in front of Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione finally lifted her eyes to his, after staring at the buttons on his shirt the entire time he spoke, "Sirius, please don't do that. You're just wasting your time."

"Then, you better come meet me," he said, turning to go towards the door and leaving her standing in the sitting room. He snapped his fingers, bending down to pet the dog that guarded the door like a loyal servant.

"Sirius-" she called out, but he was already letting himself out the door.

"Good night, Hermione," he called back over his shoulder, taking the steps in front of the door two at a time. The short dog was at his heels, wagging his tail and the two disappeared as if they apparated away into thin air.

Hermione stared into the vacant street before her, the door being held open by the sheer chance he would come back and take away his invitation, but there was no chance. His footsteps could be heard down the street, echoing off the houses he passed by, before turning off and finding the dog's rightful home.

Shaking her head, she slowly shut the door and stared longer at the ivory colored wood with copper handle, searching her mind for inspiration or a better plan. She turned around and leaned against the door for support, her mind racing a thousand miles per second.

In a matter of ten minutes, the harsh reality was starting to sink in and it wasn't because of the butterbeer she had consumed. The entire night had not been a dream, but a brief glimpse into another world, another life, another time all together. She believed herself to be a very talented witch, but that was mostly book smarts. What she wasn't ready for was the sheer reality of innocent lives that had been wasted for a poor cause.

She started to feel a twisting pain inside her stomach that was beginning to pinch like severe cramps. No matter how talented, she'd realized that she had not mentally prepared for the obvious outcome. Her heart was in the right place at first: return to 1981, tell Sirius how much he was appreciated and then return back home, no worries. But, she had shared a beer with James Potter. She shook the hand of his killer. She had discussed literature with Remus. And she had been asked out on a date with the most notorious of the foursome.

They had all been like fiction characters in books reading them year after year. But, it was feeling Sirius's hair whip her face as they rode his motorcycle, hearing James laugh with Peter, seeing Remus smile proudly at his brethren and seeing their lives unfold before her was not what she was prepared for.

The ticking of the grandfather clock was loud and very symbolic as she found herself counting down the days until it all ended. Tick - tock, the clock went, signifying moments rushing by that could not be replaced. Tick - tock...the day was nearly over. Tick - tock...Sirius was out there now, amongst his enemies, believing that he was nearly invincible. A happier more carefree Sirius Black was presently walking home a fellow furry friend where anyone could strike.

Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on her body. The evening having taken quite a bit out of her, she pushed herself off the door and slowly, weakly, climbed the stairs. Without realizing it, she had allowed herself to cry a quiet sob, a depressed sob, and a tear fell slowly down her cheek. Her insides were churning a little more over this ordeal, but in the end, there was nothing she could truly change. She would do what she had intended, somehow make Sirius believe he was worth it all and go home. Perhaps being his friend, the one witch that wouldn't judge him, might be the key.

Of course, then again, all of this would have been a lot easier to think out if he wasn't so damn cute.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Four days later, Hermione was listening to her own footsteps echoing off the old brick building that sat on the sidewalk she followed. Crack after crack, this part of London would go completely unnoticed if not for the particularly trained eye.

Overhead, a creaking old iron sign with a witch stirring a cauldron swung in the breeze. To muggles it was just some rusted old sign, but to wizards and witches, it was the entry way to the Leaky Cauldron.

She passed on through, nodding to the barkeep that gave a polite wave as she made her way to the brick wall that made up the entrance to Diagon Alley. The correct taps lead her through, emptying out onto a half crowded cobblestone road where she stayed on the right side of the sidewalk.

On her right, the Apothecary advertised new herbs that had just arrived and she noticed that business was about normal. It was good to know that even with all the darkness out there, some wizards still had time to shop. A screech across the street alerted her of Eeylop's Owl Emporium, but she knew she had arrived at the right place when she saw a slender figure sitting on the bench in front of Flourish and Blotts, with his arms opened wide around the bench and a leg bent over his knee.

He was chewing gum as he watched the people passing by, not looking like he was waiting on anyone at all and more like it was his job to sit there. His shoulder length hair was half pulled back in a pony tail, but so many black wisps had fallen free, what was the point. He wore a maroon colored long sleeved buttoned shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, worn blue jeans and boots. He wore one or two silver bracelets on his wrist and at least two rings on each hand, including one on his thumb.

Hermione had made it all the way to the end of the bench before he looked up and when he did, a warm smile greeted her enough she couldn't help but blush.

He chewed on, "I wasn't worried. Four days wasn't bad."

She averted her eyes to the ground, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Nervously, she fidgeted on her foot, wishing that he would stop staring at her so smug.

"Yes, well, I got bored."

He nodded his head, still looking quite comfortable and casual, playing her up as if that was a decent excuse, "Nice shirt."

Hermione knew that wearing her old Rolling Stone's t-shirt was a good move. It fit the time period, it was a little more casual, it might encourage conversation with him and it belonged to her mother many many years ago.

"Come on, you have to go inside and say hi to Remus. He didn't believe you were ever going to show up," Sirius said, jumping up and opening the door to the bookstore for her.

Bells jingled off the door handle when the two breezed in and Remus was just finishing up helping a customer bundle up their books. He didn't appear too pleased with helping him and gave Sirius a nod once he saw him. Sirius only glanced at the customer he was helping at first, but a second look and he knew who that fur lined cape and snake cane belonged to.

Remus thanked the man with the short blonde hair and bid him a good day that was only one way received. With a dramatic flourish of his cape, the bundle of books dropped on the floor to be retrieved by the servant house elf that cowered by his knees. He turned on his heel to vacate the store.

Sirius stood next to Hermione, his arm draped casually over the banister as he waited and sneered appropriately. His free hand resting on the back pocket of his jeans, in case that cane got too close to him and he'd have to take out his wand.

"Give my regards to my cousin, will you, Lucius?" Sirius purred, almost sarcastically.

Hermione gave a gasp at first she saw who it was, fearful that her face would be recognized. Not so much now, but for future reasons. She immediately hid behind Sirius, using him as a shield and allowing him to believe he could serve as her protector.

At first Lucius Malfoy stopped, having been prepared to further the conversation with his in-law that stood so defiantly before him. Observing the way Sirius was dressed in more casual threads, Lucius turned his nose up at him as if he were yesterday's garbage.

"You'll get yours, Black!" he strained a threat.

Hermione peeked from behind him, noticing Lucius to be quite younger, not much older than she. Still, she kept her face hidden.

Sirius smirked and shook his head arrogantly, "At least I'm not afraid to show my face. It's sad to know that your pitiful son will end up like you someday. "

"Be careful who's company you keep, she smells of mudblood all over her," Lucius spat, aiming right for his heart.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the back of Sirius's shoulders, mentally begging him not to go after Lucius Malfoy. For if it hadn't been for her being there, he wouldn't have said it.

Just as predicted, Sirius did lunge at Lucius, but was restrained by the sound of Remus's voice, "Sirius, not here."

"Yes, that's right. Do what you're told like a good...dog," he smirked. Turning to leave again, he called out, "Come, Dobby!"

"And you as well, Lucius! Be sure to do what you're told!" Sirius shouted back with venom. Before Lucius was out the door, he received a rather irritated look from his family by marriage and Sirius found a bit of satisfaction in knowing that he had touched a nerve, after all.

Once he was out of view and out of the store, Sirius turned around and inquired on Hermione who was still gripping his shirt, "You okay? I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Hermione said, having heard that word called in her direction more than once.

"No, it's not. That man has no class and sadly, he married my cousin," Sirius felt compelled to explain more than she already knew.

His eyes were open and sincere, trying to make the excuse for his insult. Taking the off color remark worse that she did, it appeared that he had a thing for rescuing the damsel in distress.

"I'm sorry for you," she said, smiling. Unconsciously, she reached out and rested her hand across his, rather firm, chest trying to calm him and let him know that she wasn't bothered by it.

"Darling, you're shaking," he insisted, taking her free hand in his.

Like touching fire, she immediately pulled her hand off of his chest and quickly averted her eyes, "No, I'm fine. It's not because of that."

Observing her sudden reaction after touching him, Sirius couldn't help but smile again, the flirt trying to surface, "Not because of that? Then what?"

"Oh, not you...I mean..." Hermione had a loss for words when she heard his tone to be something more suggestive and immediately found herself gasping for water like a fish on the dock.

Sirius patiently waited for a better answer, nodding away like he had caught her thinking something else. She, in turn, just looked at him blankly, both like the deer in headlights and like that fish out of water with nothing to say. She swallowed nervously as his piercing clear eyes studied her closely and she quickly averted her interest to Remus, who still stood behind his clerk counter.

"Hello Remus!" She called out to distract the two of them in whatever interlude she had put them in.

Across the store, not very far, the sandy colored wizard returned his greeting to the frazzled girl that was having a hand held by Sirius. It almost appeared that even though he worked there, he may have been interrupting something.

The two made it over to Remus for closer conversation, Sirius very close behind his damsel. His eyes instinctively followed down the length of her, taking in every inch of her womanly figure. The "church attire" had been shed.

Remus smiled the closer the witch got, catching his mate doing his normal thing, "I'll be honest, I thought you were going to make him wait out there forever, Rose."

"It's Hermione, now," Sirius interrupted.

"Hermione?"

"Long story, don't ask," Sirius said, leaning over the counter casually as he watched the two talk.

Hermione just smiled, slightly embarrassed at the name change, but pleased when Sirius blew it off.

"Sorry about that, mate. He's just a prick and sometimes-"

"I know, but sometimes you really need to control that temper of yours. If you're not careful, you're going to wind up getting yourself killed," Remus warned, stacking a few books in front of him to put away.

"Or worse, put in Azkaban," Hermione piped in, biting her tongue quickly after.

"Hey, easy now. First, get your priorities straight and two, don't be making threats like those," Sirius corrected leaning back up. "And for the record, I'd rather be dead if I had a choice for Azkaban."

"Well, none of us are going in there, so let's not worry too much about that," Remus tried to lighten up, coming around his clerk desk carrying a stack of books.

Sirius turned around and leaned his elbows against the clerk counter as he watched his friend work, "Well, I think James should after wearing that god awful costume the other night. Bloke's risking his life putting on rags like that."

"Technically, it was Peter that put him up to that," Remus corrected, dropping a couple of books once he tried ascending up the ladder with them.

"Levitatus," Sirius said, as he grouped the books together with aiming wand. "Dear old Peter, sometimes his heart is bigger than his brain."

Hermione glanced over at Sirius when he mentioned Peter's name and his fond thoughts of him. It was enough to feel a burning in her heart over such betrayal they had no idea about. Shaking it off, she watched Sirius do magic to help his friend with his books.

"Can you get those over there, I left my wand by my register," Remus asked, pointing to another stack by the staircase. Sirius had just gotten the last book to him and Hermione was already taking out her wand.

With a swish and flick, Hermione already had the second stack floating his way. She kept them bound and guided them towards Remus, who stood high on the ladder.

Sirius turned his head, lowering his wand arm and looking at her mildly impressed, "Non verbal magic?"

She followed his lead and leaned her elbows back on the clerk counter, matching his stance, "Yes, can't you?" She knew he could.

"Absolutely!" he snorted, as if chuffed that she even doubted him.

"Only until recently," Remus added.

"Shut it!" Sirius threatened. He never took his eyes off the pretty brunette that feigned slight arrogance.

"Well, I've been pretty good at it for quite sometime, actually. Since my sixth year at school, to be exact," Hermione boasted. She couldn't help but notice Sirius raising an eyebrow.

"Sirius, when was it for you? Your twentieth birthday, perhaps?" Remus chimed in, once again. A cool smile coveted his lips as he watched his best mate squirm.

"Well, we've got to go. Remus, you can stack your own books, mate," Sirius interrupted. He pushed himself off the counter and adjusted his collar nervously.

Hermione finally tucked her wand away, after letting a few extra books soar through the air to Remus. Some extra volumes of Hogwarts a History dove obediently to their normal slots on some vacant shelves with an elegant flutter.

"Have fun you two...and Hermione?" Remus asked with a light fatherly tone.

She turned around while standing in the doorway; her brown wavy hair resting around her shoulders wildly, "Yes?"

"Don't make him wait so long, next time," he smiled, sliding a book in its place.

That light rose colored hue started to fill her cheeks as she turned towards the open door that Sirius held for her.

As he joined her outside, Sirius slid his hands into the pockets of his own jeans as he asked, "So, do I have you for dinner, or just the afternoon?"

Hermione glanced over, careful not to bump into him so he wouldn't believe she was flirting. Their steps on the sidewalk going towards the Quidditch store in unison together. Her hands busied in her own jacket pockets.

"Ah, just the afternoon," she said carefully.

Of course her calendar was completely empty; she had to at least pretend like she had more things going on. Spending time with Sirius like this was both dangerous and heavenly and she promised herself that when she got back to her own time, hopefully to a softer older Sirius, she'd be sure to spend a little more time with him.

Like using the sense of sight for the first time, Hermione was meeting an entirely different Sirius Black. More than just a pretty face, his personality and character started to come out, that it almost appeared like a new version of what she already knew.

Back at Grimmauld Place, she and Sirius would have their occasional rows. Complete with near name calling, heated words and rounding out into an apology or medium ground. Neither one intended to throw flames; it was just in their own make-up to be argumentative and stubborn at the same time. Younger Sirius had less of an opinionated mind. He seemed far more rounded in all aspects of what he spoke about, rather than just focusing on the dismal and negative.

She discovered that he had a strong fondness for both muggle and wizard rock, complete with his bragging of owning every copy of the original issue of the Beatles albums as well as the Hobgoblins, all on their original vinyl. He chimed in small trivia bits on what had happened, music-wise, wherever they walked, not realizing that most of the newer establishments had been hidden by muggle storefronts.

Hermione found herself submerging herself more and more into his character, that by the end of the late afternoon/early evening she was counting how many times he wet his lips before going off on some tangent on what he believed the current Minister of Magic should do to correct the hunt for Voldemort. Though his thinking was a bit farfetched, Hermione didn't care. She just let him go on, smiling once in awhile whenever she'd hear the older Sirius coming through.

"...and we end here."

Hermione and Sirius had gone round and round about why so many followers and supporters of the good side hadn't come out that she hadn't even noticed that he had walked her right back to her house.

She looked up, seeing the cute cookie cutter house standing before her like a light shone at last call of a pub. It represented an ending, a time-out and a reminder that he no longer existed in her time. The gentle, softer, younger Sirius with more of an open mind just held a content grin across his lips that he had had a good afternoon. No strings. No insinuations. At least, not until she invited him inside.

"I hate for you to miss your dinner plans," he said almost somberly.

For a second, Hermione missed the arrogant man that she had first gotten to know when she first arrived. So sure of himself, so confident and now she almost saw the shadow of the older Sirius that he was going to be. Still fun, still lighthearted in his carefree youth. But, it was when he looked away after wishing her a good night with her dinner plans that she noticed something in him. Sincerity.

"Right," she said almost in a whisper. His hidden character almost caught her off guard, that she couldn't pull her eyes away when he spoke to her like she'd taken something from him.

Barely saying good-bye, she reminded herself that letting him inside the house was not a good idea. Her notes were still splayed all over the coffee table, tabs were sticking out of her Time Turner book, a modern watch sat on the kitchen table and overall, looking at him for any longer periods of time might give him the wrong idea.

She nodded her head as her only thank you and stepped away to unlatch the small front gate that guarded four feet of the house.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked with an unsure voice.

When he said her name, it sounded different than all the other times he did. A slightly higher octave than the thirty - six year old she'd known, not yet grave and tainted from years of pollution in Azkaban. She turned around, meeting his dark eyelashes from about ten feet away.

"Yes, Sirius?" she asked in a voice that probably wasn't appropriate for the situation.

He stared at her for a moment, as if timid for what he was about to pronounce, but pressed on, "Are you with anyone?"

Like someone had dropped a bucket on her, a cold rush started at her toes and worked its way up her body in a foreign fashion. Like a shy animal, her voice wasn't loud enough to answer.

She cleared her throat for more volume, "I am."

She flat out lied to him. Her feelings immediately went to Ron at the first word, still not completely over him due to the years they had spent together, nearly creating a family. His name was still on her lips whenever she'd think of or picture a boyfriend in any nature. But, for Sirius to inquire, for him to even be interested in her...it was completely out of the question. Absolutely, no thought.

"Is he in America?" Sirius's voice was questionable, as if it was slowing being pulled out of him to find out more about the potential competition, if any.

She needed to hold onto the idea of Ron. It was her only lifeline in this sinking ship she was beginning to crawl into. It was obvious Sirius Black was interested in someone like her, which was unheard of, because she didn't fit the normal formula and if she were to bite the bullet and concede...terrible things could happen. _Hold onto Ron._

"For right now," she said timidly. The time between their answers was long, drawn out, as if sinking in quicksand and you were slowly trying to pull yourself out to make the situation right.

Sirius just stared at her, he didn't press on, he didn't move forward, barely anything was insinuated and in the end he just said, "He's a lucky man."

She saw it again. That glimmer of realness to him. That inner core breaking through that outer shell that was so hard, so tough, so much the fighter.

The trees blew in the distance, a few stray leaves broke away from their final green threads and they flew through the air before falling to the earth and gliding across the sidewalk. In the distance a dog barked, probably their friend from the other night and with a tinkle in the air from a nearby wind chime, Hermione remembered to blink after his compliment.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile. Small butterflies started to grow larger and larger in her belly, signifying the slight euphoria one felt when they were beginning to grow fond of another. Such an innocent emotion that people hardly stopped to appreciate.

Feeling the world watching him, Sirius shrugged his shoulders and immediately returned back to the person she first met. His back was straight, his chin high, his hair tilted just in front of his sightline and he added a flirting smirk.

"Tomorrow, then? Same time?"

Hermione watched his momentary transformation and she slowly let the slight smile grow more into a playful grin, seeing the old dog come through. Feeling her cheeks warm with the way he looked at her, this time attempting to reach out with a platonic flirtation, she shied away.

"Yes, same time."

"Dinner?"

She smiled and shook her head honestly, "Probably not."

Sirius nodded back, pursing his lips in a funny way that told her he got the message about being turned down properly. With a wink and a flip of his hair he gave her a wave and started back down the sidewalk alone.

Hermione watched him disappear down the walk, a small part of her wishing that she could speak to him more, but she had to be careful. Too much of a good thing was going to develop into a problem and she truly needed to keep her wits about her.

Later in the evening, Hermione was just pulling the comforter and sheets down on the bed. Her cup of evening tea sat steaming on a saucer on the night stand and her massive book on the Time Turner was ready to be opened and devoured some more. She settled in after leaving the bedroom window cracked just a bit for a little fresh night air and she pulled the heavy book onto her lap.

Several pages had been dog eared, some had been highlighted, but mostly there were small parchments of notes stuck in between the pages from the end of each chapter she finished. Her eyes perused to the bottom of the page, spot checking to see if there was anything she might have missed when she'd first read that page. Something maybe new might pop out at her, possibly something old might remind her, but then as she got to the last quote, the last suggestion, her finger stilled as she underlined each word.

There, in black and white, was an answer to her beating heart. A way for the guilt to subside, an answer to the damage she may have already caused and a line she'd already read eight times as she finished the eighth chapter. All of them ending the same, all of them reminding her of the worst case scenario:

_"In the most desperate times, the OBLIVIATE charm works wonders..."_


	11. Furgiven

_A note from Serade Black:Pardon me while I try and figure out what this V.20 does. Whoa...fancy. Well, we're starting to see a few clues up until now and some people are developing questions about things I've already hinted to, or worse, given away. I do have a plan, rest assure! I do, however, LOVE your guessing, because if it's not something I've already considered, it does sometimes put a little smoke in my caboose, ya know? I encourage your theories and guesses, they're fun and it indulges me. As you know, my stories tend to get a little racy and if you've read my other stories then you'll see I'll edit them here for this website, whereas on my archive links (located on my LJ that you can link to from my bio page here) you'll have the Author's uncut version. I will always make note of it here in my beginning notes, so don't worry if you're missing anything. I do this for my younger readers or readers from locations they cannot read such...lust. Not that I'm giving it away right now, it's a few chapters away before Hermione gives in, but you all know me...you know the power Sirius wields. He'll get to her. ;) Stay patient, chapters are being worked on. Thank you so much for your reviews - in all the areas. I love them. ~SB_

Ch 11 - "Fur-given"

Mother Nature was working overtime as she blissfully blew leaves off swaying trees in her enchantments. There was a slight energy in the air that was indescribable, but there was no mistaking that it wasn't necessarily a good energy.

The cool air kissed Hermione's features with the gentle softness of a flower petal as she walked with her head bowed down. Staring at the ground, she watched as her Converse lead the way over the familiar sidewalk with fewer cracks than she could remember in her own time. Passing through the Leaky Cauldron, stepping into Diagon Alley, and keeping to the right side of the walk to avoid shoppers and their bags. Though not as many customers as the day before, a few witches bustled in and out of the shops to purchase gifts for their families or collected herbs they were running low on as they clutched to old copies of Lockhart's cookbooks to reference.

Muggle Halloween costumes decorated the front window of a store right after the little cauldron shop on the left hand side of the road. Standard costumes of "fake" witches, ghouls and monsters stood still not enchanted unlike the levitating cauldrons sharing the window with them.

Just as she was about to pass by the Apothecary, she abruptly halted as the front of a stroller started to peek out. What looked like a small portable bus, was actually a wide quad stroller. Pushing behind it was a very portly red-headed woman wearing a knit cap in purples and pinks. Around her, there seemed to be a small army of red-headed children matching one another.

Two older boys, about nine and eleven, helped carry packages. The next oldest was about five and walking alongside the stroller as he "helped" guide it along while licking a lollypop. In the two seats of the second row of the wide mobile carriage were twin boys with wide mischievous grins as they marveled at the owls in cages across the street. In the front two seats a small boy sat up and leaned forward against his restraints, smiling warmly as his mother pushed him by Hermione, while his new baby sister napped soundly throughout the noise.

"So sorry, dear! Percy, grab your brothers they are hiding that sling shot in their hoodies!" The woman alerted as she balanced all her children's activities.

Though Hermione shied her face away, she was still polite to the mother of seven and watched as Mrs. Weasley herd her family down the sidewalk. A few passers-by turned their heads at the red headed mass of one single mother toting them around, not sure if they were displaying faces of pity or heroism.

She watched on as a future chapter of her life was beginning to unfold before her eyes. Always a doting mother hen to all of her children's' friends, Molly Weasely was happy to do it.

Her feet lead her to the meeting spot in front of Flourish & Blotts, where Sirius waited patiently. Although, this time he wasn't relaxing casually on the front bench, but straddling his slender denim legs over his favored motorbike. She could still hear the engine cooling with its odds and ends sounds, ticking down from the rough ride its owner surely exerted.

Wearing a stylishly tattered blazer and rock T-shirt of The Who, he glanced her way as he sensed her approaching. He lifted his Aviator sunglasses to the top of his head, allowing the locks that had framed his face to be pulled back, so as to better see the pretty brunette witch.

His chin had shadowed stubble left over from the day before, but trimmed into a clean thick line along his jaw. With a curved upper lip he cooed, "So, today we ride."

Hermione met his sly smile and tilted her head to the challenge. She rested a hand on her hip as she asked coy, "We ride...or we fly?"

The eyes of the devil met hers and his dark eyebrows twitched for her to guess which one. He could barely refrain from winking at her taunting tone.

The sunset sky was later in their horizon. Hermione's brown locks blew wildly around her while her arms clung desperately around Sirius's waist and her hands clutched to his corduroy jacket. Fearful to look down below them, she tried to distract her mind by focusing on the heavy vibration between her legs that otherwise proved to be a bit on the euphoric side.

"Are your eyes opened?" Sirius yelled back, his arms relaxed and his eye on the skyline as they flew high above the ground.

"No!" she yelled into the wind; her face hidden behind his shoulder. She dared not look.

"Chicken! Do it now, Hermione. The sun is setting and it's really worth it to see!"

The two had been riding for most of the afternoon to the countryside and back. After very small talk from the back of the bike, he had promised her he wouldn't fly, until they were on their way back into London.

That way, it gave her all afternoon to prepare herself for flight with him.

"Open your eyes! Show no fear, love," he barked, laughing into the brisk air almost maniacally.

Like a hunter of clouds, he leaned forward slightly focusing all his energy on speed and height as they cruised a thousand feet in the sky. Gripping his handlebars with severe passion, the engine roared like a roaming lion.

Finally, Hermione conceded to his small request. She secured her grip around his waist, having held onto him for most of the afternoon and began to brace herself. First one eye and then the next, she started to peer into the dark abyss of corduroy before lifting her head.

Sirius felt her hands squeezing him tightly. He grinned to himself that he had put her in quite a vulnerable position at his mercy; a twinge of his evil blood lurking out. Still, when he first saw the sun beginning to kiss the curve of the earth, it was something only few could appreciate while not having anything before you.

Hermione slowly lifted her head, prepared to see nothing laid before them, and blinked a few times to adjust her vision. Looking ahead, she watched as Sirius weaved and bobbed around low laying clouds as if they were potholes in the road. Higher he'd go over a large one and then leaning slightly forward to go under the small ones. Each time, feeling a moist rush cover their skin as they clipped the tail end of a weather cloud about to release.

Second by second, she felt her heart beginning to pick up speed over the exhilaration of looking down and seeing the earth below their spinning wheels. Only their shadow raced against the sunset on the green countryside and never in her life had she felt so free and alive. She felt compelled to lift out her arms as she pinched his thighs to stay secure, but she wasn't that ballsy yet. For now, she let the wind catch her breath as Sirius soared his favored possession through the sky, tempted to go higher, but fearful she might faint from not being adjusted to the altitude change.

With a slight lean forward, Sirius was beginning to look for his familiar spot to land that was usually conveniently clear of all road vehicles. If it wasn't, then he usually snuck in behind a large semi truck and hid in a blind spot before racing up the street passed them, pretending to only be something the driver missed.

Landing as light as a feather, they were lucky to have the rest of the open road to themselves and sped off faster to return to the London suburbs. Upon rolling onto the short cottage road of Marley, Sirius murmured a silencing spell, so as not to disturb the surrounding residents of his motorbike. Though quite impressive, he didn't like to be rude if he could help it.

Sirius kicked down his foot to catch him stopping right before the sidewalk. He took off his gloves after cutting the engine, while balancing the bike enough so that his rider could get off without any problems. She'd not been as graceful before, so extra stable confidence would be appreciated.

When she was ahead of him, she glanced back to see him get off his bike as if it were a Black Stallion with it's dark leather accents and the shiny chrome his saddle. His boots clicked on the cement walk scuffing in her ears as she averted her trance of coolness he had over her.

Clearing her throat, realizing that she may have had her eyes on him a little too long, she licked her lips and mentally composed herself as he walked ahead of her to unlatch the short gate that guarded the little cottage house.

Ducking her head to shy away from him as his chivalrous act was held by his boot, she quickly reached inside her bag in order to retrieve her keys. Poised to go into the copper lock on the door, she hesitated as her mind started to run like a hamster wheel over details of that afternoon and thoughtfully turned to face him. He leaned casually against the door frame, letting the unrestrained wisps of hair fall romantically into his face and she found herself staring a second too long and then nervously swallowing before speaking.

She had concluded that getting to know Sirius, at this age, was essential to her plan. She wasn't going to get through to him by leaving a note somewhere he would find it. It wasn't going to be as easy as she thought and certainly not after he'd learned her real name. There was no other way; she had to be his friend. A friend that would tell him the honest truth about himself, helping him see what was most valued in his life after he got out of Azkaban.

Of course, not that it was ever planned, it was the glimmer of hope, the seed of promise that she needed to plant in him. Somehow get it through to him, that no matter what evil or bad that would come his way wrongly, there still needed to be that lifelong promise that good will prevail and that important people depended on him for guidance.

She didn't plan on being like Lily, the one they all respected and put on a high pedestal, but to be more of a small memory in Sirius's mind to help him remember that little voice in his head that told him to always stay strong, no matter how dark. Of course, should she screw up along the way for things to not quite end up the way that she wanted, the Obliviate charm would be her fall back.

At least, that was until she caught him looking at her. And not just looking at her like he was glad she made it safe home and that was the end of their visit, it was that he was now looking at her with tempting eyes. Dangerous, curious eyes. A set of clear uninhibited eyes that saw no damage in attempting to close the vacant space between them.

Believing that she was only just imagining him getting closer, she did however feel her pulse rate beginning to quicken as she caught a whiff of his cologne. His scent had started to create an unexplainable reaction over her; something she unconsciously tried to suppress.

All manners aside, she started, "I'm not going to invite you inside, because it wouldn't be right."

He gave a slight grin and tilted his head with an innocent boyish charm, "And why is that?"

Lack of distance between them had proved that she was not imagining him standing closer, for she could clearly make out the appearance of soft skin exposed by undone buttons on his shirt.

"Because, I don't want you to get the wrong idea," she said honestly. Though vague, it was still the truth.

"It's too late," he grinned with a wink, "I already do."

Hermione took a moment to assess his words, but realized with his boyish smile that he was putting her on. At the hint of a tease, she mentally shook her head clear of silly thoughts and let out a small chuckle. The mood was beginning to briefly thicken, but then was quickly deflated with a teasing smile.

A light wind began to pick up around them, causing a hanging wind chime to dance in the breeze, waving its iron limbs gently against one another to give off a rhythmic jingle. Quiet sounds around them made themselves scarce and soon all she could hear was the faint sounds of breathing as he remained closer than she could remember. A stray lock of her hair couldn't have timed it better by loosening itself from her own hair tie restraints, crossing over the front of her face. Though warmed beneath a jacket, his eyes sent an erotic chill over her skin as the handsome wizard watched the stray lock as an invitation to touch her.

As if watching a butterfly float passed her eyes, she was mesmerized by the reach of his fingers towards her face to catch the stray lock. Looping it gently behind her ear lobe, his fingers lingered briefly around her face, before taking the opportunity to run the back of his hand down her cool soft cheek in an effort of affection.

Her eyes started to flutter with his serene touch, showing subtle gratitude, but still very nervous as guilt was beginning to melt into her body like warm lava. Her body now tense as the fabric of his jacket rubbed over the hand she clutched a set of keys with. They shared the space on the small step before the door and it was inevitable that a good-bye was not going to come to them so easily.

Her insides began to severely flip, feeling each one of her own breaths as a guilty pleasure as she knew she should have long gone into the house before reaching this point between them. Though not incredibly intense, it was incredibly intimate as just the gentle touch of the tips of his fingers around her cheek was enough to make her heart pound with such ferocity that it was deemed nearly fatal. Sirius Black had been able to sway her; he had been able to captivate her enough to allow him such gentle liberties that should never have been thought of.

Fearful to meet her eyes, she challenged him anyway out of fear that their visual connection would give away every secret she desperately clung to at that very moment. Where by him just looking into her eyes would expose their history and the timeline between them would be forever altered. But, she risked it. His touch was too soft, his smell was too intoxicating and his voice when he spoke to her was so enchanting it was no wonder he held the reputation he had...when he was younger.

She swallowed shortly.

The older, more refined Sirius that she had known longer would never be thought of in this light. He was never seen as a possible object of affection, but more like a constant nagging opinion at the dinner table that never backed down, never let up and always saw Harry as James, though he would not admit it. It was apparent he tried secretly to rekindle the youth he once had, but all those he knew, like Remus, had gone on, grown up, lived their lives and left him behind. Only now, in her time period, did people finally see the long time effects it had on him. Being sheltered, held captive and assumed guilty without a trial was character breaking. It was soul destroying and it was dream shattering. As she looked into the less than innocent eyes of the twenty-one year old version of Harry's godfather, it was obvious he still wanted to have a hopeful future. To endure an adventure every day and to never, not once, allow evil to prevail.

She was mesmerized by his aura. Such a cool demeanor wrapped in a perfectly fit package with sharp features displaying years of nearly royal blood enhanced by the hinting half-moon overhead. His hair looked midnight black, uneven at their ends and barely touching the tops of his shoulders. His head bowed down and he was focusing only on her and the way her porcelain skin felt under his fingers.

He had behaved properly each and every time, up until now. Never feeling the invitation to step into her personal space, he knew he was taking a gamble at that moment. A brilliant mind that could match his, a wit that had no remorse and grounding he could get used to. With swimming brown eyes, a firm figure and a face that he would always remember, he tilted his head adoringly as he watched her angelic tendrils fly around, barely restrained in a brown barrette.

The feeling was secretly mutual. Enchanted by his entire being, Hermione allowed him the simple liberties. She felt her cheeks warming to his touch, thankful that the night would hide the rose colored hue they were probably taking on. She exhaled small subtle breaths, a slight indication that her heart was beginning to pick up its rate once more. Unbeknownst to her, it was just like his.

His eyes were locked onto hers, barely taking the time away to blink; his fingers curved under her jaw and gently slid down around her chin. Swallowing nervously, he kept his cool and felt compelled to lean in closer. To test her. See if she was real.

Hermione felt like she was watching a moment between two strangers. It was like she was standing outside of her body, not truly feeling the emotions that were overwhelming her with enticement and guilt. But, still she stood there on the tiny front step, allowing him to lean in, and watching his hungry eyes of desire meeting hers that were full of turmoil.

Like using the gift of sight for the first time, she had come to realize that Sirius was so under appreciated in her own time. Forgetting that there was a time in his life that he thrived on life and wanted so badly to make a difference while living each day as if it were his last. Something that only remained a memory in the hot blooded thirty-six year old that she had befriended and danced with on her birthday night.

With her morals battling out, she couldn't help but secretly want to give into temptation, but knew it was so wrong to do so. The small little devil conscience that sat on her shoulder egged him on, hoping he'd move a bit quicker, while the angel conscience was screaming at the top of her lungs over how terribly wrong this was...and that was the voice that won her over the last second.

Just as she was about to allow him the sweet gesture that wasn't as earth shattering to him as it would be to her, she had parted her lips ready, when she politely turned her head away to not lead him on any further.

"Sirius, I'm sorry. We can't," she said quietly. Her voice sounded strained with exhaustion.

At the sound of her rejection, Sirius slowly pulled his fingers away from her retreating from his advance. His face reflected the disappointment, but not sadness. It didn't take him long to compose himself, almost resetting to the position he was in before.

"I understand," he whispered with a nod of his head.

His voice sounded strained, but not upset, as if he was just realizing what he was doing himself. For a brief moment, he knew it wasn't right, for she was far from his typical type. Never before had he found himself going for the outspoken one.

Hermione closed her eyes as if saying it more for herself than for him, "No, it's just....you and I just shouldn't..."

There were no right words to explain how catastrophic it would be should the two of them share a kiss. Not that she wasn't tempted, he was more than she could handle and it was deliciously enticing to attempt. It was comparable to watching a film where the bad boy was coming around and one couldn't help but just ponder the likes of them for one second longer than normal. But, this was Sirius Black. The same older man that had the occasional toast by himself, moped around the house mentally tortured and pining away for his younger years of life. Certainly not the young twenty-one year old that strutted around in Levi's and tight necklaces that barked with laughter while flying through the air on his motorbike.

But, all of that _had _been the Sirius she knew. Unfortunately, it just took her a long time travel to find out.

The handsome wizard that stood only a few inches taller nodded his head conceding, "Your boyfriend, I know."

It seemed so simple for him to believe that. But, he was more perplexed than anything and was still trying to rationalize the reasoning for feeling compelled to kiss her. A girl like Hermione was not his normal type, but that was what made it so intriguing. And now, for her to deny him the simple act of what he was so used to doing on such nights, after a good ride, walking a witch to her door was perplexing. The mysterious brunette with the wrong names had only one strong excuse to feel passionate for.

Hermione didn't look up, she only squeezed her eyes tighter and bit her lip as the wrong story rolled off his tongue as a pacifying answer. Her stomach churned with dirty guilt settling on her skin where she allowed him to touch her. She wasn't something that was to be tangible in his life. She was only a figment; she barely existed and nowhere near the magical world at that present time.

Finally, she found the strength to look at him. When meeting his eyes, she searched to see the clear beauty in them again. From a man who normally had witches falling over themselves for him, she could see he was conflicted by the one standing before him that he couldn't touch.

Hermione concluded that the reason Sirius believed, would have to be the one to stand behind. It was a better answer than she could have come up with, so with a slight nod of her head, she lied.

"He's actually coming in through customs, today," she added, swallowing hard.

As if she needed to add more dirt, Hermione began to fill the hole she dug herself into. Using the name of "Ron" as her life preserver, she needed that sort of safety net, before she got in over her head.

Appearing a little unprepared for her addition, he glanced over at his motorcycle for inanimate support. His footing began to fidget and his voice lowered when he said, "You didn't tell me he was coming here."

There was a definite change in his tone. The charming sound was transitioning into a somewhat defensive voice and his lips pursed thin like he was trying to refrain from saying something further. His shoulders went straight, his chin raised as if he was pulling himself away from any remaining moments of intimacy as he put on his new mask. Not looking back at her, his body language was beginning to stiffen and he was coming across a little jealous.

"I didn't want to spoil anything," she managed. Her voice sounded weak, remorseful even, over the thought of he being angry over someone that was barely just walking in a pram.

She could see first hand that Sirius wasn't taking the idea of competition very well. Even if it was made-up and completely untrue, she had to make some kind of barrier between them so that the line of temptation wouldn't be crossed. Too much of a good thing was bad, but too much of a good thing in a different time period was even worse.

Sirius finally gave a side glance to Hermione, his lips parted to say something further, but after a deep breath, all he managed was, "Have a good night."

He wanted to get away. No smile, no wink, just stiff shoulders and his head low watching the ground as his boots hit the cement with brute force. His hair hid his face, shielding him from seeing her as well, but as soon as he was situated back on his bike he gave a very carefree shake of his head and never looked back at the brunette standing on the doorstep watching him so dejected. His body slouched, taking his secure spot of power on the motorcycle. He showed no concern as he dropped the entire chivalry act; it was like Hermione didn't even exist for those next four minutes he took to leave.

He didn't wave, he didn't even look up. Like a cold robot with no emotion, he just turned his keys, revved up the engine and kicked off speeding down the road giving no consideration to the nearby neighbors.

Though it seemed like a brief glimpse into his future, the brooding Sirius when he didn't get his way, Hermione recognized that person immediately. She was no stranger to the more thoughtless Sirius, the one that people misunderstood, so at least she knew how to handle this one.

But then, as she heard his bike echoing down the road, passing by the houses that probably didn't see the likes of his sort in that neighborhood, she felt a small pang in her heart. Seeing him leave wasn't what she wanted. At least, wasn't what she wanted like that. She enjoyed the friendlier, hell, even the flirtier Sirius that looked at her like she was the only witch in the world. Those piercing eyes, that chiseled jaw, the way his wavy black hair fell down his shadowed cheek and his barking laugh...it was all very mysteriously alluring.

...and he had tried to kiss her.

The weight of what had happened, or what had nearly happened, was finally crashing down on Hermione when she had forgotten how to perform the simple task of swallowing. Her throat was closing up, her hands started to feel clammy and her eyes started to blink faster when she found herself running a hand through her hair in such a manner that when she was done, it was a frazzled mess. Her skin started to feel cold again, her heart started to pound and as she quickly fumbled to get into the house, she realized that she was having her very first panic attack.

She was growing quite fond of her best friend's godfather.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione sat at the small kitchen table. Three tattered books lay open before her with torn notes between several pages. Two empty ink bottles and a broken quill proved as evidence from a long concentrated evening tearing through pages and trying to rework theories. She lazily rested her cheek against the back of her hand and found herself dreaming off and getting easily distracted by her thoughts from the late afternoon.

It was already nine o'clock at night by the deep chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Showered with her damp hair in a braid rather than a tumbled mess, she managed to find the softest bathrobe in Professor McGonagall's closet to wrap herself into. A tea cup half full still steamed away next to her tapping fingers that rested on the table. Her eyes focusing and blurring at the same time.

Whispering in from an open kitchen window, Hermione felt a chilled breeze coming in and finding the small patch of exposed skin on the back of her neck. The evening had gotten cooler, clouds were rolling and by looking outside it appeared that fog was taking over the nearby backyards.

Her ears perked up to a dog barking at something passing by in the distance. Probably her furry friend on the next block alerting its owners of a raccoon about to knock down some trashcans. She then heard a nearby neighbor also doing something in their front garden with their own trash, like they were dragging it to the curb for disposal.

Thoughtful, yet practical, she got up from the solace of her table and opened the front door to see the sidewalk of the houses across the street and if they had their barrels out. Sure enough, the surrounding sounds had clued her in on when trash night was and she quickly went around and emptied all the trash reciprocals in the house into one bin.

She tied the bag closed and taking it out of the main bin, not bothering with the entire trash can that probably sat in the back garden, she carried it out the front door and down the front steps to leave it on the curb. The ground was cold as she padded down the short walk to the side of the road, leaving it about in the same spot her neighbors had.

The moon offered a little light, but it still cast shadows through the low tree branches. In the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something move close to her. That raccoon perhaps, ready to wreak havoc on her own trash. At a second glance, she lost her breath and in the dark shadows of the nearby hanging tree branches a set of glowing eyes met hers. Momentary fear made her search blindly to pull her wand out of her robe's pocket to be on her guard.

She illuminated her wand tip and waited, watching the pair of eyes carefully and cautiously. Slowly, the timid animal came into view, so that it could show it meant no harm.

A large black dog with a shiny furry coat came into view, his head bowed and a light non-threatening whine to signify he was approachable.

Sighing a deep breath, Hermione dropped her wand and blessed at her visual relief, "Merlin's Beard, you scared me-" S_irius._

_The last word halted from her sentence, catching herself quickly. She knew who the black dog was, she'd seen him several times and by the way he carefully sulked up to her, she knew it was Sirius in his animagus form affectionately named Padfoot._

_Had Hermione said his name, her cover would have surely been blown for no one knew that he was an unregistered Animagus. If she had, goodness knows what kind of story she'd have to make up to tell him she had the ability to recognize people as animals. Merlin only knew what that would do to his future, learning that._

_Regardless, Hermione feigned slight fear and treated him as if he were a potentially dangerous timid stray. Showing no harm herself, she played it up as she put her wand away and knelt down to greet him in a friendlier manner. Mimicking her head tilt, he bowed his head weakly and slowly padded towards her with the invitation for her to pet him. _

_Smiling to herself, she had no doubt that this truly was Sirius in his secret form. His eyes gave it away and the fact that he had no collar in such a nice neighborhood was also a clue that he was not a neighborhood dog. Her fingers slid carefully around his neck, scratching gently behind his ear and then lightly petting his back, admiring his healthier coat that had an amazing black sheen to it compared to the Padfoot she knew in her time that had dined on rats and chicken bones._

_She gathered that this was probably his way of coming around and saying "sorry". He had left quite abruptly that late afternoon, after the mention of Ron and if he was even remotely jealous, he probably wanted to come around and see his competition. Though remorseful, he played it up rather well portraying the harmless stray._

"_Hello, boy. Just out for a stroll tonight?" Hermione gently cooed in a non-threatening tone. Her fingers had reached his ears and she began to gently scratch right behind in a special spot. _

_Padfoot sat down properly in front of her, his rear going down and his tail wagging happily. As she reached a tender spot behind his ear, he raised a paw before her, so she would shake it._

"_Oh, you're a smart one, too," she smiled._

_Hermione caught Padfoot glance up at the house for a moment. Even in his canine form, she could practically read his face and what he was thinking. _

"_No, there are no cats in there for you to catch," she teased. Then she thought it a good time to explain why her imaginary boyfriend wasn't there, in case he had been sitting out most of the evening in her garden. "Nor is anyone else in there."_

_The gentle black dog whined and pawed at her again, encouraging her to continue scratching when she stopped so abruptly. His tongue panted quietly in complete euphoric doggy heaven and was tempted with the notion to roll over and have her scratch the fur on his belly he couldn't quite get to._

"_I bet you wouldn't be the type to stand me up, would you, boy?" Hermione asked, covering Ron's absence. _

_Hearing her clearly, Padfoot gave a light friendly yelp, but not a loud bark to disturb the neighbors._

"_If you said you would be here, then you would, right?" Hermione smiled and used both hands to scratch his back, where he stood on all four legs to get closer to her. _

_Padfoot took advantage of his innocent dog appearance and gently nudged her face with his nose. She pulled away and giggled as his tongue was reaching out for her cheek._

"_No!" Hermione quickly chastised and stood up, wiping her cheek of dog slobber right in front of him. Real person in animagus form or not, she was not going to allow a dog to lick her face. "You run off, now. Be careful, though."_

_Padfoot sat down again, raising his head high, his mouth closed and big dark eyes looking up at her so regal. He looked like a statue he stood so still, only the wind blowing his shiny black fur around his body._

"_Good night, boy," she added with a smile and turned to go back up the sidewalk. _

_The heaviness in her chest started to lighten knowing that Sirius had come around, one way or another, to soften things over. She meant him no hurt and certainly didn't wish to upset him so much over something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. She knew that she was treading on very thin ice with him knowing her in this lifetime; the Obliviate spell was becoming a much better idea than what she first thought._

_When Hermione had reached her front door, Padfoot remained close to her heels, just as if he were a human next to her. _

"_No, no. No dogs allowed in the house," she turned around to scold. "Go home, boy. Someone is surely missing you."_

_With a gentle yelp, Padfoot backed up off the stoop to let her close the door and leave him outside. Two dark eyes watched her move through the house, her silhouette easily seen through the curtains in the front widows. She crossed around the first floor of the house, extinguishing lights and leaving one on in the front window of the living room. His eyes watched her ascending up the staircase in front of the door and then disappearing to the second floor where he sensed she was getting ready for bed. Padfoot whined quietly, as if whispering a good night to her in his own voice._

_He turned to leave the front step and looked towards a secure area between two bushes that appeared like they would make a soft spot to lie down. He glanced left and right, to make sure the space was free of any rodents or raccoons that might otherwise interrupt his territory before turning around three times in a circle. _

_His earthly bed met his limbs with a subtle softness that could only be appreciated by someone of his kind. No high count sheets below him, no down comforters to cradle him, just the night sky above him and the stars as his night lights. Padfoot's eye lids began to weaken as he heard Hermione's bedside lamp tick off, his acute canine hearing senses listening for her, and finally he allowed himself to dream away of meaty bones and luscious cats._


	12. Damage Control

_A Note from Serade Black- Snuffles and Padfoot debate. It was in her era that he called himself Snuffles. He never actually had a name, but Padfoot was what he was known as, in his Marauder years. As for my "romantic location", bear with me if that place no longer looks like that. Imagine that it does. I also want to give a really big nod to one of my favorite comments/reviews yet: "I say screw the timeline! Fool around with him -often!"_

_Past chapter flaws, I apologize for my own geographic errors. Even though I know Three Broomsticks is in Hogsmede and Leaky Cauldron is in Diagon Alley, you'll have to forgive me for making that minor slip up back in chapter 8. I made a reference to Remus working "around the corner" while they were having a pint in the Three Broomsticks. I've already established that Remus works at Flourish and Blotts. I'm very sorry for this mistake._

_Also, this chapter, in no way, reflects my religious beliefs. Certain references were written for general comparison not as an inclination. Enjoy! ~SB_

Ch. 12 – Damage Control

The sun had broken dawn and its rays of lights traveled over the side streets and cobblestone around the village fountain. Hovering trees down the main road waved in a friendly manner, inviting new arrivals to join them in the peaceful town. Morning walkers retrieved their papers from their post boxes as they finished their final lap into their drive. Half a mile away and down a quiet square, shop owners opened their doors for business as they gently tapped their pockets to make sure their wands were still secure.

On one of the larger lots of the suburban side of town, a pretty house with brown shutters peeked out from behind a tall oak tree with a swing attached to its lowest branch. A cobblestone walkway led to the front door with the antique handle knob ready to welcome new arrivals.

Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders gracefully, having had a brush already pulled through her straight mane. Pulled up on the sides with barrettes, it hung like spun silk over a light green terry cloth bathrobe.

"Should we wake him?" Lily Potter finally asked, breaking the morning silence.

James Potter was just taking the first sip out of his tea mug, testing to make sure it didn't need anymore sugar when he heard his wife inquire. "No, he came in really late."

The young couple sat across from one another at their small breakfast table that was placed before a bright bay window overlooking the back garden. With brown crisp toast on a plate, a selection of berry jams, and milk, they were just starting to partake in a light breakfast. To their surprise, the owner of the third place setting, consisting of a high chair, had managed to snooze past eight in the morning and they were elated for a few extra moments of quiet time.

Lily stirred a silver spoon quietly in her cup, looking into the living room where their midnight visitor had arrived with a scratch on the door. With long travels by portkey in his animagus form, Sirius had transformed back into the leather coat wearing raven head that stood on the stoop and was currently sleeping soundly on their couch with limbs thrown everywhere.

"Did he say anything?" the curious redhead asked. Perplexed, she furrowed her brow as she tried to determine if the position Sirius had thrown his legs into against the back of the couch was actually comfortable, or a quiet plea for help with his appendage knotting.

_"Shh! Lily will have your hair if you wake up the baby," James stage whispered as he let his best friend into the house. Wearing a dog collar for most of the time, he was unable to carry keys._

_Looking a bit disheveled and with a few pieces of grass in his hair, Sirius nodded and walked inside with a side glance in the event that Lily was awake with him. Making himself at home, as he often did, he shrugged off his coat and laid it over the back of a recliner that sat in the center of the room. He took his wand out and illuminated a lantern by the couch and fell into the furthest side of it, exhausted._

_"Why were you out running around? You and Peter luring out defenseless cats down dark alleyways again? You know Lily thinks that's cruel." James sighed at the very thought, but couldn't help unveiling a slight side grin._

_James went into the kitchen to get a couple of beers, assuming that with the way his mate had arrived at such a demanding hour that it wasn't just a social call. Returning in a single minute, he plopped down into the leather recliner that faced the couch, where his long time friend had taken to slouching into._

_Letting its comforted folds absorb him like water on a sponge, Sirius sat well relaxed and barely lifted an arm to accept the beer that was offered to him like a token of peace. He rested his head back, staring at the ceiling and looking utterly bushed. Knackered was more like it._

_"Do I dare ask?"_

_Sirius continued to stare at the ceiling, sighing like he'd just run a mile, but lethargic like he was empty of emotions. With the strength of a slug, he turned his head lazily to peer at his friend who sat open and waiting, like so many times before._

_"James, I'm so ashamed of myself," Sirius started with a grave voice. His arm rose to sip his beer as he stared ahead blankly._

_"First, will I be repulsed?"_

_"It's a witch, James," he practically moaned out reluctantly. To him, the words tasted vial and he couldn't help but sneer his lip._

_"Which witch? I've given up keeping track. But, I do remember, Lydia. She was a dark one. Did she hex you or something when you woke up and realized that she wasn't as pretty as you thought?" James hid a small smirk behind his beer bottle as he recalled the humorous story that Sirius had described in full color of the dark haired girl with the hairy upper lip and odd eye twitch._

_"The one you met," Sirius sighed with a hint of impatience, frustrated like a ten year old that it wasn't clear as mud._

_James almost choked on the next sip of his beer, quickly removing it to prevent a terrible self inflicted drowning, "Sirius, I've met so many-"_

_"Hermione."_

_"Who?"_

_"Rose!"_

_"What?"_

_"Don't ask," Sirius waved away the reason for two names. He hadn't the time to go into specifics if James wasn't going to keep up._

_The spectacled wizard with the unruly black hair furrowed his brow with utter confusion as he looked to his mate as if he were trying to sort out some kind of difficult math equation. Believing it to be too much on the account of the early hour, James didn't wish to be rude and just shook his head to give himself a wake up to try and stay focused._

_"Is that the girl from the pub? The smart girl?" James questioned with an uncertain voice. "She's out of your league, mate. Not the typical bird you go for, that one."_

_Sirius brought a hand to his forehead, looking rather ragged and anticipating a headache. His fingers continued on and he ran them through his wavy black locks. Just shy of a pout, he let his hand fall against the cushion next to him._

_"Yes, the girl from the pub. I can't explain it, to be honest. James," he sat up in an instant when he needed the assurance his friend was listening. "I tried to kiss her tonight and she turned away. I don't want to come across as arrogant-"_

_"Too late, mate."_

_Sirius raised his eyebrows and gestured his hands out in desperation, "James, mate, focus. Please! I'm having issues here."_

_"Right, continue. She moved away from you, she's playing hard to get. Lily did that for a bit, but you saw how she turned around," James moved on. After glancing towards his son's room, he leaned back into his recliner, settling in for a long evening chat._

_Sirius followed suit and relaxed back into the couch again, slanting slightly to the right against the arm of the couch, where he swung his legs up to lounge dramatically over his woes of concern._

_"She's someone else's girl. Some guy in America. Probably a real tosser," Sirius grumbled the last bit to himself. "She's playing really hard to get."_

_"Sirius, you just said she told you about a boyfriend. You have to give the witch a little credit for self control. So see, it's not you, it's her," James explained it so simply. Clear as mud._

_"That's supposed to be my line," Sirius replied, looking over at his friend with a cocked eyebrow._

_James smiled at his longtime friend that was as close of a brother than anyone could be. He was pleased he had focused his efforts on at least one witch, rather than two or three, but it was a little disconcerting that he was mildly distraught over the ordeal. He was never one to dwell long on heartbreak or rejection._

_"But, the kicker is that said boyfriend stood her up tonight. He came in over the pond, only to not show up!" Sirius let out a small chuckle, amused._

_"And how would you know that?" James asked with a quiet sip of his bottle and a sly eye. His friend had been up to something._

_Sneering his lip at his proposed confession, he focused on the beginning of a rip in his favorite pair of jeans and started to pick at it for lack of something better to do. "I may have looked in on her."_

_"...as Padfoot?"_

_"Possibly," he obviously confirmed. "She was so gentle with me as the good looking stray. Such soft hands and she smelled so good-"_

_"Sirius."_

_"Right, sorry," he refrained at first from drawing on. But like a spark had been ignited within, he awoke and confided in his friend, "But, she smelled so good. She's got these eyes, these mysterious eyes that just scream soul searcher. It's like she's met me before, like she's known me for years and yet, I can't imagine ever crossing her path before."_

_James was enjoying the soft comforts of his own chair as his friend displayed far more animation than he when the twilight hour was close. His friend painted the picture of the witch he'd met in the pub, not too memorable in his mind, other than she appeared to be quite intelligent and had her wits about her. She had a particularly wholesome appearance about her that was trusting, though that could be somewhat disenchanting; he'd never seen his friend so hung up on such details before. For Sirius to react in such a way gave James hope that he wasn't going to always be so materialistic. Perhaps a good romp with a girl that dabbled more on spells related to physics and theory rather than hair color or make-up would do Sirius good._

"So, it was over a witch? I'm impressed," Lily charmed in a sweet maternal voice. She had a definite twinkle in her eye as she tilted her head when she heard Sirius move and readjust.

James nodded, sipping his hot tea and glancing up at his wife, "It was. She's a nice girl, from what I met. Thought to myself that she kind of reminds me a bit of you."

Lily hummed and nodded approvingly, "Well, that's comforting. Maybe Sirius will consider more than just what her favorite color is."

A strange snort and thud from their living room had signified a position change in the lazy one with limbs shooting out and over the divan. The Potters looked on as their friend put his body in strange positions that only a circus contortionist could master. Though rough in his exterior at times, it was reassuring that Sirius might actually be appreciating the inner package rather than the outside label for the first time in his life.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Visions of a fitted black t-shirt wearing young wizard with black locks smiled in her dream as if he were posing for a photo shoot. Winking every other second, knowing he was being watched as he sat upon his motorcycle like a knight on horseback. Dusty worn brown boots planted him to the ground without a kick stand as he folded his arms in front of his chest flexing his toned biceps under his t-shirt. Without an inch of dirt smudged on the chrome of the machine, the overall appearance was too much to believe.

Which is why, at five thirteen in the morning, she jolted her body awake in the full sized bed she lay in. Coming out of what she believed was a harmless dream, turned into a foreboding feeling of guilt she should otherwise not reflect upon, her throat was dry and her mouth felt like cotton. She tried to swallow and she could almost taste the exhaust from the motorcycle.

She blinked her eyes as they adjusted to the subtle darkness with a hint of light coming in from the pastel yellowed curtains of the guest bedroom. She glanced down at her body briefly, seeing herself still in her lounge pants and t-shirt of the 1983 Weird Sisters tour that she had found in a wizard vintage shop before she left. Before she had gone to bed, she made a mental note of the shirt having a date two years after her projected time arrival. Something she had overlooked when shopping in the galleon bin.

A slightly shaking hand rested over her heart as she felt its tempo slowly returning to a normal pace. She wet her lips as she rested her mind on the latest picture she had. Slowly, she shook her head to herself, quietly scolding for allowing her subconscious get the better of her.

In her mind, she had made amends with Sirius, even if he believed to be hidden in his animagus form. What concerned her now, was how she was going to continue the light friendship with Sirius, after a line had nearly been crossed. Her advantage was that she obviously wield a little bit of power over him, so he could possibly be easily manipulated to listen to her futuristic reasoning. It would probably be difficult, since she had just taken a mental axe to his ego, but if he had any brains, he would shrug it off and seek her out and go beyond it.

At least, that's what she had planned.

The ongoing thirst for research won the best of her and she traced her steps back to Flourish and Blotts to see about potions; a potential plan B. Coming up the sidewalk and to no surprise, she noticed her afternoon companion wasn't perched in his normal spot in front of the bookstore. Just a vacant bench with no evidence that he had been there that day. A discarded cardboard coffee cup sat on the ground, but it had lipstick on the rim and she was sure it hadn't been his. No lingering fumes of motorcycle exhaust and certainly no scent of his cologne breezing by her. He was not there.

The little dangling bell on the door handle of Flourish and Blotts jingled her entrance and a few customers turned their heads in her direction. Several books soared down throughout the store once requested by a waving wand or a quiet incantation. The fresh smell of newly bound books wafted into her senses and offered her an overall calm like someone seeking sanctuary in a church.

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Hermione kept her face low and quickly stepped up the staircase that stood to her left. Her feet moved quickly, hoping to not catch anyone's attention and in a blur, she disappeared to the second floor.

Remus had heard the front door bells jingle for him and he managed to catch a glimpse of Hermione before she dashed up the stairs. She appeared to be distracted by her thoughts and was set to escape from sight, neglecting to look up for him when she first stepped inside. Had she not been preoccupied, her manners told him that she would have looked up to see him out of politeness. Instead, she made no effort to even see the people she walked around, let alone look for a familiar face that might be of assistance.

A half hour later, the bells of the bookstore still rung as shoppers came in and out. A more than busy day at the store for a time where anyone could have been accused of using Dark Magic; they could not stay away. After Remus bid a good-day to a mother with two small children, the jingle bells rang again as the door was held open for the small stroller with a smiling infant by someone feigning a visitation.

Remus put the last copy of the latest Gilderoy Lockhart cookbook, Cooking With Merlin, on its New Releases shelf and turned to Sirius, who was otherwise leaning against a stationary poster of muggle writer, Stephen King. He hadn't said a word, just waited for Remus to find the time to greet him and initiate conversation on a rather dull day.

"She's upstairs," Remus simply said. He hadn't imagined why Sirius would need to be in there on a cool overcast day when he was sure it was nearly the best kind of day to ride an enchanted motorcycle. It was well known that Sirius enjoyed the moist "speed bumps" for a good laugh.

"Which one is looking for me?" Sirius said smug with an air of a chuckle in his throat. He glanced over at a copy of Wizard Weekly that had a cover story of "My Life as a Gigolo in the Muggle World".

"I'm referring to the one that _isn't _looking for you."

Remus had both hands on his counter top and his sandy blond hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head at his friend with poor acting skills. Though he rather liked the girl himself, it was evident that Sirius had his eye on Hermione in a different light.

Sirius pretended to not know what his friend was talking about and shook his head as he picked up the magazine to leaf through. A few dark strands hid his sightlines and he snuck a glimpse towards the front door at the sound of the jingling bells. As he saw no one he knew coming through, or rather no one he'd hoped for, his searching eyes returned to the magazine.

He tried to start the story of the Gigolo three times over, but the burning sensation of glaring eyes on the side of his face was nearly too much. With the overwhelming silence, he argued with his mate and he refused to give into him. He wasn't moving, he wasn't going to give, he was going to stand there at the magazine rack and read quietly to himself.

Determined brown eyes under a furrowed brow scanned the spines to read the names of the authors who wrote any kind of modern material on kitchen potion making, but to her, everything was out of date. She'd either read the book or owned the book back at home in her own time, whenever she'd found a title that might have appealed to her. Luckily, she managed to find a small book with a hard bound cover that didn't look too familiar to her. Passions Potions by Rita Skeeter, she eyeballed. At first, she smiled to find this little gem, never knowing that Rita had dabbled in publishing any kind of her work. It was a bright colored green cover with pink pages and when she opened it up, a slight waft of some potent perfume emitted from the spine. Around her several other books started to stir about, beginning to sneeze and make otherwise "pssing" noises that they appeared to be annoyed that the putrid smell was beginning to contaminate their own old pages.

With the same side effects as pepper, her eyes started to water and with a full lung, she sneezed hard enough to accidentally drop the book on the floor. Several books around her grumbled over the disruption, flittering their pages in light protest as if they were awakening from a long hard sleep.

As she bent over to pick up the book, she didn't see him come around the corner. After being started again, she immediately dropped the book once more.

"Sorry, I'm late," Sirius whispered in a loud library voice.

"Merlin, you scared me!" she huffed in a much quieter voice and returned the book to its place. She heard the other books around her beginning to get a little more anxious over all the commotion.

"Sorry, love," he was quick to acknowledge. "Hey, sorry I took off last night. It was incredibly rude of me." He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked down at his feet briefly as he quickly thought out what he had planned to say to her as he walked up the stairs hoping to find her. Then, honesty struck and it was as clear as air, "I'm not a big fan of competition."

The same second that he looked up from the floor into her eyes, his peek of sincerity made that guilty flutter in her chest cause her to hesitate. She forced herself to look away, also finding confidence by staring at the floor. She practically stuttered, "Yes, well..."

The little flutter started to get a little stronger and she tried to think of something, anything, to distract her and beat that little flutter down hard.

"Did you have a nice night?" he asked. Knowing first hand that she was alone the night before, he still tried to play the sympathy card, at least to get some points.

After trying to count the scuffs on his boots that peeked out from dark jeans with ripped holes in the knee, she managed to refocus on her story. She had to briefly remind herself that this was still Sirius, the thirty-something Godfather she came to help and not the twenty-one year old Sirius that made that fucking flutter force her to lick her lips inappropriately.

She tried to focus her mind on forming the right answer and not allow her girl crush dream get the better of her. Clearing her throat first, she lied, "He didn't show up, actually."

"Oh, he didn't?" Sirius asked coy. With a bent wrist to his chest, his otherwise Oscar-worthy performance would never have passed due to the amount of sarcasm dripping from his lips like melted butter.

Hermione quickly bit her lip to avoid cracking a smile. The sound of his voice was so unconvincing, as much as may have truly tried, it was all she could do not to laugh. Teetering on the edge, she managed to cover it up with a fake cough as he went on with a flick of his wrist.

"I'm so so sorry," he added desperately.

"Yes, well," she coughed again, "he said he was detained in customs and had to visit his family...so, it just went on from there." She matched his performance by looking away and covering her mouth to look serious and disappointed, but really Sirius was making her lose it.

"That bastard. Really? Hermione, if it were me, I would never....just never," he concluded with a shy glance away, trying to look genuinely upset for her.

"Thank you, but really...what are you doing here?" She asked, before she lost it completely. His matinee needed to come to a close.

"To find you, of course. It's our routine," Sirius smiled with a slight gleam in his eye. Taking on a bit of his more confident character, Sirius folded his arms over his chest as he casually leaned against the shelves. Thick locks of hair fell gracefully into his face with his smoky eyes peering out like from behind midnight curtains.

The surrounding bookshelves served as their secret alcove. Quiet sounds of twittering books moved around them as a couple of customers found their way into the Advanced Potions and Spells department up in the loft and they were no longer alone.

Hermione couldn't help but allow him to win her over. It was obvious that he was trying to clean up after his quick temper from the night before, only to have felt true remorse when he returned as Padfoot in her front garden. Just as suspected, she would go about her business and let him do the talking.

Unfortunately, her mission deemed more and more difficult with the more winks and side grins she received. Not a lot of time had passed for them, but whatever it was, this young Sirius seemed to bring out a little bit of another character in her. Always sworn to follow the rules, she had started to discover that breaking them once in awhile wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Only now, her will power needed to be on its guard, for being lured into Sirius's charm was as far against the rules as Eve eating the apple.

She knew all of this. It was a mantra she repeated over and over in her head, but what she wasn't realizing, was that she was learning more about Sirius than he would ever allow to let on. Sure, a small bit of it was shallow and he had a real problem with taking a hint, it was that he was genuinely intuitive and prepared. With the mind of a true combatant, she wondered if his talents had rusted just a little when she was fifteen and he had fallen into the Veil, for he seemed to harbor a gift of knowing who the right and wrong sorts were. Very protective of his friends and company, he saw whatever he did, as being the right thing.

That along with a million galleon smile that seemed to melt her faster than butter in a frying pan.

The corners of her mouth curved into a slight smile when she saw the way his eyebrows raised when he casually leaned against the old bookshelf with his purple and green Hobgoblins t-shirt stretched across his taut body under a fitted velvet blazer with frayed edges. With the onyx tied around his neck like a staple of his name, he was the perfect portrait for the witch's fashion magazine for the column, "How to Gain the Attention of a Hot Young Wizard."

The moment was beginning to go on too long, that she was otherwise afraid he might believe her to be staring at him and she cleared her throat. "And you've found me, so what are your plans?"

He recognized a certain tone in her voice that spoke to him in his own language. Without realizing it, she was flirting with him. Strong, stable, firm Hermione played back at his equal game that he licked his lips with such subtleness, she probably believed him to only do it for the innocent sake of moisturizing his lips and not to distract her from the gleam of mischief he had in his eyes.

Refraining from brutal honesty to her question, using the truth that her boyfriend had stood her up as fuel for his fire, he said nothing and extended an arm to usher her back down the stairs to leave the bookstore. The stairs creaked under their feet, announcing their departure and the presentation of Sirius's interest to those that might have known him that were picking up a few things in the shop.

The gentle jingle of the front door bells made Remus look up from a sale he was closing out, just in time to see Sirius give him a friendly wave behind Hermione's back as he followed her out. In a few seconds, the two disappeared and were walking side by side down the sidewalk in the direction towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Sirius kept his hand on the small of Hermione's back, guiding her through the half empty streets, smiling proudly like a child getting his own way. Dipping between stores, Hermione hesitated for a moment when he veered off the beaten path down what looked like a deserted alley opposite of Knockturn Alley. His trusting eyes nodded for her to follow him.

He stopped about fifteen feet away from the road of Diagon Alley and turned around to face her with a sly smile. As if asking her for a sensual request, his voice sounded smooth like warmed chocolate on the tongue, "Ready to apparate?"

Momentarily distracted with the way his lips formed such simple words, she just barely felt him place his hands on either side of her arms before the cosmic pull made them reappear in a vast open country area that she later recognized as Hampstead Heath.

The sky was still a bit overcast, but the sun was just barely peeking out from behind some low clouds. The weather was cool on her face, fresh and crisp. They had apparated behind some bushes and directly after them, another small family of three appeared. With a cordial nod, they passed Hermione and Sirius and went on their way holding various sporting pieces like a volleyball and Frisbee.

Around them, a few seasonal flowers started to come out to bloom through the fighting rays that seemed to whisper through the clouds. Leaves and protective branches surrounded them and when they came out into the clearing, Hermione found herself holding her breath in awe.

Together, she and Sirius overlooked the city of London. Busy streets of cars driving through made the view look like a magical portrait. Those hinting rays of sunlight cast shadows over different historical buildings, giving them further majestic appeal.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione asked quietly, still taking in the view. She felt an overwhelming sensation of relaxation. Peace finally came to her for the first time since she'd been there and the company she kept chuckled under his voice next to her.

"We're walking."

Snapping her head back at Sirius, she tilted her head to the simplest answer, but it came across as the most profane. The velvet blazer, Hobgoblins t-shirt stretching, worn denim wearing wizard smiled to her like a teen boy happy she had liked his idea. Learning that she was not so much the materialistic type, he tried nature for a clever tactic.

Like a matrde at a restaurant, he held his hands forward for her to step on the trail that was laid out before them. As if he'd just opened a door for her, she smiled politely and nodded her head as she started on the path that was going to lead them over the less muggle populated part of the park.

"Have you never been here, before?" Sirius tucked his thumbs into his pockets to refrain from reaching for her hand like he usually did on walking dates. It pained him to practice so much self control for a witch, but after some good advice from James, advice he'd heard James's dad give both of them around their last year of school before they set off.

"Not since I was a little girl. A tiny little girl, at that." She looked down at her feet as she spoke. She could feel his eyes glancing back and forth at her randomly, hoping that she'd look him in the eye.

"How long have you been gone?"

Hermione thought for the moment he was inquiring about her time. Her heart quickly picked up its tempo as she tried to open her memory of banked excuses she had prepared for just such a question. "Gone?"

Sirius nodded casually, helping her to answer, "Yes, gone. Been away to America that long you can't remember?"

"Oh," she caught, "Since I was ten. We came back on occasion, holidays and such."

"To visit your Aunt?"

"My Aunt? Yes, my Aunt McGonagall. Yes, she's always busy with school and such, so it was hard to see her."

"I had your Aunt for a Professor in school and now we work closely on a special project together. She never mentioned she had a niece quite like you. I'll have to say something about that."

Hermione immediately stopped, like they were about to cross a busy intersection, but it was her eager look of plea that made him arch an eyebrow. Either that or it was the way she suddenly reached out to grab his arm. "Actually, it's best that you don't." Hermione looked down at her own hand gripping his bicep and yanked it away as if he were hot coal. She tilted her head to phase the nerves out and tried to cover, nearly stuttering over her first few words of the lie she had concocted. "You see, she's very protective of me and I'd hate to interrupt her studies."

"That or you don't want her to know you're hanging around with the likes of me?"

She missed the fleeting humor in his voice and quickly dug her small hole deeper, "No, I mean yes. I mean, no." Her voice changed pitches so many times in that one sentence, it was like she was taking uppers and downers one after the other. "I mean, no, she won't. But, yes, I don't want you to speak to her about anything. Nothing about us. Nothing about what has happened, what we've done-"

She made it out to sound like her entire life was going to remain a secret and though she wasn't offering up too much information, the free air around her started to thin. Merlin forbid that she out herself right then and there over her correct time, just to avoid any further disruptions. She turned back around started walking again, to help lessen the uncomfortable moment.

"Hermione, is there something you're not telling me?" He asked with a casual tilt of his head in order to free his sightlines from the pesky escapees that refused to be restrained in his half ponytail.

She didn't have to lie about this one, "There's a lot I'm not telling you. I won't." Her keen eye caught his sly glance of mischief and she toyed back at his own game. "And I'm a hard one to break down."

He feigned slight exhaustion and dared not to argue on that last statement. He shook his head convinced, "You're not kidding. I can't remember the last time it's taken me so long to get a witch to come 'round."

"Yes, well, I'm definitely not like any witch you've ever met...yet."

He paused in mid stride. Hermione took two steps ahead of him before turning around to see why he'd stopped. As if she'd finally said something so astounding, he just raised both his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. His lips parted in awe of her, about to say something, but reconsidered.

Instead, he waited to see something, anything that would explain a little more about who she was. Standing there before him in pastels and denim, she was like a flame and he the unsuspecting moth. Where once upon a time he was the lion and his every date was the lamb, it was odd how he was so intrigued on this one witch.

Hearing the soothing sounds around them, birds finding solitude in trees, children laughing in the distance, the wind calling out the seasons, Sirius watched on. Captivated by her pursed lips as they moved slowly into a grin just for him, it was of no surprise why he had felt compelled to kiss her. As if he challenged himself to be the key to her iron lock, he had to be the clever one if he was going to make another attempt.

For a moment, something passed over her eyes he hadn't noticed before. It was sincerity. Like feeling a soothing sensation passing over him like warm water on tense bones, she seemed to say something that opened his own eyes when he looked at her. Her hair blew around her soft face, making her out to be a beautiful poetic portrait standing in front of him with the city below as her background. A pull in his heart wanted to feel her skin on his finger tips, but he felt blocked somehow, like she wouldn't accept him if he even tried.

Having been torn down once before, he hadn't the strength to initiate something again. Not yet, anyway.

Hermione watched him fall silent, like he'd just all of a sudden found her out and something gave it away. Did she say something wrong? His stare was so intense on her, but she was not worried. Though he was youthful again, both in character and attire, he still stood before her as that older wizard she felt platonic towards while living with him back at Grimmauld Place. However, he was getting dangerously closer. His face was calm, peaceful, tempting and he was coming in to unlock a hidden momentary fantasy that she had shamefully dreamt about the night prior in her deep sleep.

Hermione swallowed as his gentle exterior was beginning to harden, but not in a cruel way. At first clean, cut, and approachable, he was quickly turning into the suave seductive character his reputation held him for. Friendly eyes narrowed in on hers as he carefully stepped closer and into her personal space. Not incredibly unwelcome, but he made her feel like the fawn in the open field awaiting the hunter to target on her.

And said hunter was close. Dangerously close. The hem of his velvet jacket brushed over her hands that she nervously gripped when she noticed him staring at her. Now only a few mere inches in front of her, her eyes traveling up the length of him and the little voice inside of her screaming at the top of their lungs that she should run far far away - she froze. As stiff as a plank of wood, she stilled and waited.

Her heart was now in her throat, frantically trying to hide the fact she was unable to swallow at the present time. Her eyes burned from his intense gray ones, his cologne was filling her senses all over again and as the sun cast just the right shadows over his face, it was as if she was looking at a perfectly chiseled sculpture. She never saw him move, but felt the euphoric twinge from the tips of his fingers as he carefully placed them under her chin in such a manner he could have repeated his move from the night before. Like a tempting dessert, she peered up at him through worried eyes, waiting for him to devour her. His thumb strayed away from the side of her cheek and down below her chin where he slowly slid it over her bottom lip, as if to test her before he could taste her.

Sirius concentrated on the pretty witch that grew more and more breathtaking by the second and though he fought every muscle in his body and every little dirty voice in his head, the last thread of self control won him over. Even though she practically presented herself in such a manner that she hadn't intended on running away, he knew it was just wrong for that moment to make a second attempt so soon after he was denied and so soon after her boyfriend had stood her up.

Even though the idea of competition hadn't bothered him before in the past, something with her made him feel inadequate to assume he was better than her suitor. The mystery man he'd love to size up made him feel like an invisible rope was pulling him away from her, keeping her safe from harms way.

Hermione was finally able to swallow, between his slow blinks that were like an oasis, and like slow moving lava through her bones, her legs were weakening. Her head was starting to get light, the sounds in her ears like a euphoric orchestra on the cool day. Her eyes started to drift and she closed them without any thought to what he'd do to her next. As if hypnotized by a magician, she slowly reached out and rested a hand against the lapel of his jacket, eyes still shut and her face tilted just slightly.

He wanted to kiss her. Like a vampire to blood, he wanted to taste those glistening lips on that breezy day to discover a warmth in the cockles of his heart he'd never felt before. Rose colored cheeks over porcelain skin was enough for him to want to hold her face in his palms and lose himself to whatever would take him.

Sirius swallowed when she shut her eyes, baiting him with the obvious invitation that he wasn't sure she truly intended to give away. Her body language still a bit difficult to understand, he loved feeling the pressure of her hand against his chest in a manner of support. Her face was tilted up, her neck slightly turned and the soft special spot under her earlobe called to him to leave his lips upon.

He felt her face fall easier into his palm, enticement at its greatest strength. His heart started to beat for this girl that still managed to wield a little more self control with the role of female temptation. A definite contender for him to see her as more, he still was not able to cross that line of disrespect.

With one last glimpse at his self control withering away, he leaned in to make an attempt on her lips, but retreated at the last second and yield to offer the witch a kiss upon her forehead. Rendering them surprised, speechless and safe.

With the featherlike contact, Hermione slowly opened her eyes just as he was pulling away. A newfound respect for him overwhelmed her and without any words, she just lipped a subtle "thank you" that he managed to translate.

After apparating back to their safe spot, Hermione climbed onto the back of the newly polished motorbike and wrapped her arms securely around Sirius. With the roar of the engine, she let out a sound that was slightly frightened that erupted a friendly chuckle from the mastermind behind it.

"Relax, love," he charmed with an air of confidence swimming around.

Shaking her head and squeezing her arms tighter than what was deemed platonic, she gladly scooted up the seat to be closer to him. Not quite intending too much on the intimate position, a small bit part of her secretly wanted to test herself with the temptation. It was fair enough to say that they were both equally fair game, him more than she, but what a terrible shake up of the timeline should she return to a life where she and Sirius shared a kiss, or worse, relations. Already, she was breaking the rules.

With another roar of the engine, the motorcycle created a stronger vibration. Even while turning onto the cookie cutter Marley Street, the near miss kiss, the smell of musky cologne and now with the sensation between her legs, Hermione was glad that Sirius couldn't see her for her cheeks must have been as rosy red as Santa's suit.


	13. Take a Chance

_A note from Serade Black: Trucking along, we are... Finally seeing some further development and for those patient readers - thank you. For those impatient readers - thank you, as well! I'm never for one to write a fast attraction. I love these two characters so much together, I find it thrilling to write their interactions. Yes, yes, please make suggestions, you never know what kind of plot bunny might be born out of you planting a seed in my head, for at least a scene (because, it does help at times). I am ahead of schedule on this story, about three chapters, so it's just up to me to go over them for the 1000th time before I send it off to be beta'd. Enjoy and keep reviewing! ~SB_

Ch. 13 - Take a Chance

Thankfully, the loud roar of the engine below them served as a distraction for Hermione, who was currently tearing herself apart inside. She mentally weighed out the consequences for not ending their evening and spending more time with Sirius. Would it be too much? Would it be too close to crossing said line that they were so close to teetering over?

Whatever it was, he made the decision awfully difficult for her. As she rode on the back of the groaning motorcycle, she was forced to hug his body tightly, so as not to fall off. However, the downside of the body clutching was that every now and then the smell of his musky cologne would fill her senses like an aphrodisiac, rendering her mindless. Even for just a few seconds.

As promised, Sirius brought her back to her temporary home, before dinner time. Not a second was spared, for he felt the need to take as much advantage of the time they did have. His moves were subtle and slight; she barely noticed that every time they'd stop at a red light he'd take a hand off the handlebars and brush it over hers. He played it off as necessary, like adjusting his jacket or tightening the gas cap. But, he secretly relished the fact that she clung to him like a life preserver adrift in the ocean. He felt her chin resting on his shoulder and in the corner of his eye, he could make out her feminine profile looking ahead with him, watching the people watch them through the streets of London.

His stomach clenched when he came to a stop in front of the perfect short little fence in front of her house. Shining as a beacon of no man's land, he saw the picket fence around the small perfect house as if it were a twelve foot barricade and beyond it, a fortress. She was well guarded and protected in the little home with white shutters and yellow paint. How he would have loved to have told the wizard in question how much he envied him by being able to walk through her doors and kiss her enticing lips any time he wished. The pull was getting too strong and though he was never a martyr for love, he still felt slightly tortured.

Sirius cut the engine and rested his arms in front of him on top of the gas tank. Absent-mindedly, his long slender fingers stroked the gas cap as he felt her body moving behind him to get off his motorcycle. He remained seated, however. His resentfulness letting her go acting patient, but immature.

"I would say have fun, but I won't mean it," Sirius said with a flirting side glance. His hair fell to the side long and silky. The half moonlight reflected against his shiny locks.

Moving slow and concentrated, Hermione got off the motorbike and slowly turned to face him like a timid animal. She was trying to stall. Her hands dug deep into her pockets, fisting themselves nervously. She shrugged her shoulders uneasy. The war in her head battled on, no white flags, no victory, just turmoil.

Finally, she cracked and with a small quiet voice said, "Actually, my plans were cancelled for the night."

Like an invisible string slowly pulling him up straight, Sirius raised his head to see her fully. He folded his arms over his chest and waited with a curved eyebrow. Letting her words sink in, the left side of his lips began to lift like a Cheshire cat, "So, you can have dinner with me?"

With a nervous twitch of her foot on the sidewalk, she took a deep heavy breath, as if she were about to submerge herself head first into the dark lake. His eyes were on her, waiting for an answer, but she already felt like she'd thrown the grenade without a pin and it was too late to run.

Nervously, she spoke, "Yes, I'll do dinner with you."

And again, like a child getting his own way, he felt like he had started to win the battle. The battle against the nameless, faceless wizard that failed to show up and instead left his beautiful maiden to fraternize with the riff raff. Sirius had remained a behaved young man all afternoon, not even partaking in the luscious dessert of her lips she had blatantly offered to him, completely unaware of what she was truly doing.

Then, with a catch, he spoke, "We can on a few conditions." The sneaky side of him was slowly emerging and the tips of his devil horns were just peeking out of his thick black locks at his temples. With snarky eyes and humor in his voice, he asked, "Will it make whoever cancelled on you, jealous?"

A rose hue started to fill her cheeks and she had to admit to herself that he was ever so cute with his nearly-there dimples. "It might."

_If she and Ron were still together, and this was their own real time, it really, truly might make him green with envy. But, again, she was well over him. At least, when this pretty man was speaking to her as if she were heaven in his world, she was._

"Is he a big man with a short wand?"

This erupted a small giggle from her childish side. Refusing to answer, she just bit the inside of her lip to refrain from embarrassing herself further.

His flirting radar was on and he was slowly working his own charming magic to make her smile around him. The picture of her lips in an upward position made his heart lighter and for the life of him, he couldn't imagine leaving her on this evening when nothing else mattered. His normal flirty types responded much easier and with less effort, but to him, the time it took to finally break down this one that stood before him like an innocent flower, humbled him. He relished the feeling of good that was starting to fill him like warm water in a bath on a cold evening. _Hmm, a warm bath with her? I'm getting ahead of myself!_

He was mildly satisfied with that answer and reached for her hand, "The other thing is that you let me take you to the nicest place for dinner with no objections."

Regrettably, she met his hand half way and let him hold it. With a gentle grip, his rough exterior was so misunderstood; she never would have expected his hands to feel as soft as it encompassed her own. For a moment, her lips parted when she felt his thumb slowly brushing over her knuckles.

Nervously, she swallowed as she saw his eyes staring at her so intently, "Maybe I should go change?"

He shook his head, not taking his eyes off her, "No, believe me. You're dressed perfectly."

She felt her heart quicken with his perfect words. The sound of his voice sending her subliminal messages to not be afraid and to come into him willingly and without regard. Unbelievably different to what she had expected from Sirius, he was a far cry from the man she thought she knew in her own time. For what it was worth, she vowed from this moment on to befriend him the way he deserved to be; as a gentleman with a heavy heart for those that were around him.

His hand pulled her towards the bike and she slid back on with minimal effort. Her hands took residence back around his waist; his hands tightened her grip around him before he started his bike back up. With a kick off the ground, he made a U-turn on Marley and the two of them were back on the London roads and traveling through the city center at speeds too dangerous for muggles to attempt.

They rode for about ten minutes, speeding through red lights, passing cars that never looked out the windows, moving at the speed of stealth unnoticed like the Knight Bus. Finally, curving around back roads to main roads through Camden, he veered onto a very rich street with larger front gardens and taller gates to each individual house. Twenty-four was the number they turned into with overgrown trees hiding the front gate. When the rumble of Sirius's motorcycle got louder, the gate opened with minimal effort, exposing a well ridden car park and once they were behind it, it closed with no command.

The bike came to a halt, Sirius removed the keys, gestured for Hermione to get off and he turned to walk up the few stairs to the front door of the fortress that was hidden behind camouflage shrubbery.

"Ah, where are we?" Hermione asked meekly as she looked around at the low growing trees with branches that looked like dangerous tentacles.

He removed his wand from his boot and held it to the door, "_Alohamora_. My house."

Hermione was immobile. Her throat started to close up and she could practically feel the Time Turner burning against her skin as it rested under her blouse. Her eyes darted all around, as if looking for a way out, but it was no use, he was already unlocking the door and ushering her inside. The lamb into the lion's den.

She stepped into the house timidly. He was close behind her hanging up his keys on a hook by the door. He walked passed her, trying to lead her beyond the foyer, but Hermione just stilled. Her eyes were moving all about her, taking in the large home with the long narrow hallway of wooden floors and beige walls. Right in front of the entrance, a narrow staircase that circled above her led up to the second floor, lined with an ornate wooden railing. With every slow step, the wooden floor creaked under her feet, announcing her movements.

Sirius had gone on ahead of her and disappeared through an archway on the left, only to poke his head back around once he realized she wasn't close on his heel. "You can look around, love. I've got nothing to hide."

Still slightly nervous, taking note that the front door had automatically locked, she was cautious as she took baby steps down the creaking hallway. To her right, she glanced beyond another archway where the parlor was displayed. Decorated in purple and maroon with silver accents, a luscious living room with a plush couch, a recliner to match, and an antique coffee table in the middle made it feel welcoming. Heavy dark curtains covered the tall long windows that took up most of the front wall and under it stood a short hutch with a decanter and a selection of high ball glasses on top.

In the corner of the room an old roll top desk had a duster diligently taking delicate care of the shelving as it cleaned on its own about the room. On top of the desk sat an iron cage with a gorgeous raven and gray owl with big black eyes resting soundly next to a stack of parchment and quills for messages.

Looking about the room, she tilted her head when she noticed that right behind her on the wall were several portraits, all different sizes, smiling and moving around in their frames. The one in the center, she particularly liked. It was all four young men. James, Peter and Remus stood smiling, while they lifted a lounging Sirius across their arms smiling a cheesy grin like a Greek God. Next to it, Harry's father James and his mother, Lily held their newborn baby proudly, smiling and cooing for the looker. Under that, a sleeping child rested soundly in his pram, completely undisturbed with his chest rising and falling peacefully. His forehead was pale and without any markings.

"This is my family," Sirius said as he came into the room next to her. He looked upon the portraits with a content grin, happy to have them in his life. "Except for this one."

Sirius pointed to a young boy, about eleven, wearing a school uniform that grimaced towards the viewer. He looked dark and otherwise bored with getting his portrait done. A closer look and Hermione noticed that his uniform was in the colors of grey and green.

"Is that you? You're quite cute-" she started, but was cut off the second she complimented him.

"No, it's not me. It's my younger brother. I wasn't sorted into Slytherin at school, he was," Sirius's tone was slightly irritated. "I only like this picture, because I come up behind him and scare the dickens out of him...wait a minute. I'll be there in a second."

Like magical portraits, the subject sometimes gets bored and wonders off to explore beyond. Just like Sirius did in this portrait. Hermione followed Sirius's eyes back to the portrait where the unsuspecting raven haired boy stood proud and firm, only for a more handsome young man, dressed in Gryffindor robes, to come up behind him and startled him enough to make the younger boy scream like a girl.

Sirius chuckled under his breath, tickled every time he looked at that portrait. His face was sorrowful for a moment as the crying young boy went after his brother and out of the frame.

"That was my brother, Regulus. In happier times, between us."

Hermione knew his brother's fate, but could not remember when it happened, "And where is your brother, now?"

"Dead. Made my mother proud and became a Death Eater at a young age. Got himself killed a few years ago. He was a coward," he finished, watching his brother take his place again in the portrait.

_No he wasn't, Sirius._

She wanted to tell him. He believed what you did. It was just too late for him to tell you.

"That's, my Harry," Sirius illuminated. The thought of the small sleeping child in the picture brought an immediate light into him as he beamed as much as the true father himself. "James, who you've met, that's his son. I love that kid."

Hermione smiled, feeling this to be a good opportunity to put a word in regarding her reason for being there. She glanced over at him, admiring his silhouette and his sharp features as locks of hair fell to his sides. "I'm sure he loves you."

"He's too young to know. Although, I do get him the neatest presents." Sirius reached up to straighten the picture of the sleeping Harry that was slightly askew.

"Children are never too young to know who are the most important in their lives. If anything, as we get older, I think we wish we could remember these moments. The times in their lives where it's most innocent, free and not a care in the world surrounded by people that you trust and love."

Sirius looked over at the all inspiring Hermione, his eyebrows rose, "Where did this come from?"

"Just looking at the pictures. You can tell a lot by just watching them, seeing how they interact." Hermione pointed to the one of Sirius taking a nap, with a tiny Harry asleep on his chest. "You look like you put your life into that tiny child."

"I would. I do. I'm his godfather."

"Then make a promise to yourself now that no matter what happens in the future, that you will always let him know he can come to you. Being a father is a very noble and proud thing, but the godfather is next in line. Do you actually know what that means, Sirius?"

"What? Who a godfather is?"

"Yes."

"It's the runner-up. It's if anything were to happen to either James or Lily, I would take Harry."

Hermione just slowly nodded towards the handsome man with dark locks. Reality set in his face, believing that he understood what she was saying, until he halted her train of thought and her muscles immediately tensed at the fall of his words.

"But, nothing is going to happen to James and Lily, they're safe." He shook his head confidently. The sound of his voice was too strong to believe anything else, which was why it was going to be so painful later down the line. The look in his eyes for that family made her nearly hurt with how much he wanted to protect them. "I will always be there, for Harry. He'll never understand how much of a miracle he was."

A side glance to Hermione and he pulled away from the portraits to invite her to explore the rest of the house, but she stood firm. "Sirius, you're not listening to me."

He stopped, as if talking about Harry was somewhat of a sore spot and he couldn't understand why she was still going on about it.

"You're underestimating yourself. You have no idea how important you are in his life."

"Hermione, love, why are you going on about this?" Sirius reached out to lay his hand on her upper arm. She was looking at him, not through him like so many did. She was affectionately speaking to him in terms of generations.

Without giving anything away, she furrowed her brow slightly frustrated, "I have a very good friend who was in a similar position. Both his parents died, at different times, and he was left with nothing. No family, just a foster home, and then...then one of his parents' friends came back. Just like a godfather...his godfather couldn't replace who his dad was, but in his mind it was just as good as. Sadly, the man didn't see it at first, but both needed the other. My friend needed a father and this man wanted a son...it just fit. So, that is why, I'm stressing this to you." Hermione was beginning to see the reflection of passion in his face that she was trying to convey, and he slowly, ever so slowly, understood the magnitude of it all.

He shook his head, absolutely mesmerized with her. "How do you do it?"

She blinked several times, as if coming out of a trance from her rant, "How do I do what?"

"Live every day with this kind of passion. For a witch our age, it would be exhausting. You are practically reciting poetry and yet, you don't bat an eyelash." He was shaking his head in absolute awe of her. Her lips were so rosed, he wanted desperately to taste them, but he couldn't. The passion in her eyes was intoxicating and all he could do was slide his hand from her shoulder, down into the palm of her hand, which she gratefully took. "You're not like any witch I've ever met."

"Yet," she whispered.

"Yet."

The moment between them was starting to tense and she cleared her throat to bait him away, "But, you know Sirius, there is something else. Something that you haven't been entirely honest with me about."

He dropped her hand and crossed his arms over his chest. With a prude look, he raised his chin as if to see through her, "And what is that?"

She caught a hint of mischief in his eye and smiled, as if she'd got him. With a flourish of her left hand, she pointed across the room. "Those! If you tell me they are just for show, you'll break my heart."

Sirius glanced to the end of her finger and then onto the other side of the room where his guilty pleasures sat, in order by author, on an old bookshelf. He looked back at her and dropped his voice, "Now, I wouldn't want to do that. So, no, they're not just for show. I've read all of them. Some I've read a few times."

Hermione went over to his wall length, ceiling to floor, bookshelf of historical muggle novels, dark magic encyclopedias, dictionaries in several different languages, old text books that she remembered having, potions books, and more. Like a child in a candy store, she looked at the selection with wide eyes and her mouth parted slightly. She shook her head, mesmerized by the tattered paperback copies of T.S. Eliot and Nathaniel Hawthorne novels that were set aside.

As her eyes scanned the collection, Sirius now standing to her side, she rested them on a particular subject and pulled it out to finger through it. The little dark voice in her head telling her she should not be pushing the envelope on such a subject, but she was tempted to see what he'd say.

"It's quite an incredible feat to be able to accomplish it," Sirius said as he looked at the book on animagus forming.

Hermione knew his dark secret, but couldn't help but taste the temptation just a little. She soon discovered that it may have been a clever way to stroke his ego. "They say that only truly talented wizards can do it. It takes years to be able to master it."

Sirius was quiet for a moment, watching her profile and studying the way her eyes scanned the pages, trying to fill herself with some brief unknown knowledge. He was tempted to say something, something to show himself off, something to impress her, but refrained from saying it all together. Instead, he only hinted towards it as he was eager to take her into the kitchen.

"Maybe not years for some of us," he said with a light charm and that was the end of it. He removed the book from her hands and set it back on a shelf where he reached for her open hand to lead her along behind him.

Hermione's cheeks burned with the knowledge. The pit of her stomach blissfully turning with his slight confession.

Taking her back out of the room and down the creaking hallway, she followed behind him, biting her lip slightly nervous. But, it was a good nervous. A coy nervous. The kind of chills that one would experience if they knew they were getting to receive a treat. Suddenly, she realized that by learning about his intellectual collection, she no longer felt preyed upon like an animal and instead, allowed him to bring her around to a safer place mentally. Even if she was locked in a house with a man who could change into a dog, be devilishly good looking and recite passages of T.S. Eliot by memory. Why hadn't she seen this before?

Hermione felt him squeeze her hand as he gently pulled her behind him into the kitchen. The archway they walked through opened up into a luxurious kitchen, big enough to service a family and with a nice preparation island in the middle. Quite bright compared to some wizarding standards, Sirius utilized more of the muggle world than she had seen in other wizard houses. The standard stove, oven and ice box were there, but in the midst of everything that may have deemed primitive, a microwave or toaster would be seen.

The cupboards had no doors, so you could see all the bowls, cutlery, food and mixers in case you were looking for them. Over in the corner, on what looked like a very old baker's rack, was more of Sirius's stock of fine alcohol and wines. Below, he had several steins and shot glasses displayed like a proper bachelor.

Across from the kitchen area, a table for four sat in front of a big window that overlooked the garden and in the short space between along the wall, a leather love seat with a short coffee table sat. Several larger sized books sat on the short table, where an open novel of some sort was flipped upside down, saving its space, appearing like it had been read earlier that afternoon.

After looking around at his humble, rather large abode she turned around to see him walking right towards her with an apron. Before she could say a word, he had looped it around her neck and with a gentle gesture, turned her around and tied it in a bow behind her back. Hermione made a small squawk, ready to protest his plans, but then piped up the moment she saw him put an apron on himself.

"Did you think I brought you over here to cook for me? How do I know you won't poison me?" Sirius was quite snarky when he was surrounded by his own things. He was already taking down some hard pasta and setting it down on the center stone island. He stayed busy by gathering up all the preparations for what later he filled her in on being lasagna. "No, we're going to cook together."

Believing that this was the most unique type of dinner date she'd ever had, Hermione blinked her eyes in slight disbelief. She stood still for a moment, watching him disappear and hearing him turning on some big band style music from the parlor. Similar music she remembered Remus playing during his lessons her third year. She though fondly at how interesting he'd made the class and how she was intrigued by his method of teaching. Sometimes, the music truly made the mood.

He returned to the kitchen to see her still standing in the same place like a stone statue. With a double step in his sashay, he took her hand and danced her over to a chair to sit her down, "I have but one rule, when I cook." He fell to his knees before her, his fingers snapping to the jazzy beat and his head bopping just slightly, when he started to reach for her feet. "No shoes when you cook. I cook barefoot."

He was already untying her Converse shoes and slipping them off her feet like a Prince and the glass slipper. Once barefoot in socks only, he stood up and offered her his hand as he kicked off his own boots unceremoniously while never missing a music beat. With an extra twirl, she whirled around and he pulled her to follow behind him as he bopped his head endearingly to the big band. She couldn't help but smile from the inside, giving her a warm melting feeling as she watched his locks sway around his head.

Never before in her life had Hermione experience such an incredible time while making dinner. She'd never done this with Ron or Harry, but then again, they weren't Sirius. He was full of a life he was proud to show off, a light whistle off his lips, a snap of his fingers as he reached for something on a shelf and almost always a quiet socked tapping foot when she'd glance his way. He was in his own world, slowly pulling her in. He was very playful as he prepared, proving himself to be quite well skilled and he later admitted that he had only done this one other time with someone, and that was with his cousin Andromeda.

He twirled around the kitchen with her, leaning over to check on her progress of cutting vegetables to make the sauce, while he carefully browned the meat in a pan. He made sure her wine glass was never empty and their toast was to new friendships and to the fall of Voldemort.

As he returned to his side of the kitchen, Hermione couldn't help but glance over in his direction. He was completely oblivious to her roaming eyes down his backside. Dressed in high quality threads, the buttoned up shirt he wore was fitted to his form as if he were the model they designed it for. A well toned back shifted its muscles as he worked over the stove and the jeans he wore were fit perfectly around his rear before they flared out over scuffed up brown boots with square toes. His silky black hair with a shaggy cut fell over his shoulders, just barely curly at the tips after he flipped his head back to keep out of his sightlines. When she was close to him, she could smell the light scent of his expensive cologne that she remembered him wearing whenever he was around the house at Grimmauld Place. Obviously, his taste in fine colognes hadn't changed much in twenty years.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

Her momentary daydreaming and overall oogling of the back of him had distracted her enough that stainless steel had brushed over her forefinger as she was cutting an onion. She quickly dropped the knife to assess the damage, he and his alluring scent joined at her left side.

He quickly took her hand in his, surveying any serious damage from he knife, but smiled when he saw it was just a minor cut not requiring stitches, but just a bad scrape just barely breaking the skin. His hands were soft on hers, gently caressing them the second he was permitted to touch her.

He glanced to her eyes; she was staring right at him and appeared to be slightly breathless over the attention, "You're alright. Does it sting?"

Having no control over her reflexes, she parted her lips with a light sigh over how handsome, no, how beautiful he looked when he spoke to her. His lips were perfectly formed, his jaw barely shadowed by the day's stubble and shorter locks swept by his eyes in a manner that made his eyes stand out majestically.

She nearly forgot how to talk and barely breathed, "Yes, a little."

He pulled her hand towards the sink, where he took particular detail to making sure her finger was clean of any possible onion juice that might have assisted to her discomfort. He went so far as to wash her hands and fingers for her, carefully massaging them in a manner that probably wasn't intended to be innocent, but she allowed it. She was totally entranced by him.

All of a sudden, she blinked furiously, when one does when realizing they might be staring. For, as he washed her hands and glanced her way, she saw him. She saw Sirius. The same Sirius that she knew. The older, more refined wizard that adored Harry and lived to tell his tales of his past over good times. Shadowed by a younger man's form, it was him and it was fleeting. It was a bit of the Sirius she had gotten to know while she grew up and like sand in a glass that was stirred up, it was finally settling in her and she somehow felt connected. Connected to both Siriuses, the young and the older one, in the same package, it was just that they had evolved.

"You okay, love?" Sirius had seen her watching him, almost in a trance-like state. He wondered if it was just the sting.

She shook her head, blinking a few times again, and realizing that she had been watching him for too long, "Oh, yes, thought I saw someone, that's all."

"In here?" he asked as he looked around the room to tease her.

"No," she paused. "In you."

"So I remind you of someone?"

A gentle smile crossed over her lips and she looked at him in a calming, friendly manner. "Exactly, like someone."

"Not your boyfriend is it?" he asked with a side glance back to her washing fingers that had gone on too long. Her hands were more than washed three times over, by now.

She slowly shook her head, lightly smiling over finally seeing a familiar Sirius in the younger one. He was so much the same person and she looked forward to befriending him in the future, if he made her feel this comfortable. Whatever he was doing to her, was promising for a stronger future. She felt compelled to know him more and if this younger one was to help bridge the relationship, it would make this trip even more successful, for he would listen to her later in life.

"No, not my boyfriend."

"Good, would hate to be that," he mocked. He smiled and gave her back her hand, only to leave her briefly and return with a band aid. "Now, be more careful. I think you've cut up enough, anyway."

While the lasagna casserole cooked in the oven, the two of them started on salads at the table, sitting side by side, rather than across. Their wine glasses were once again, refilled to the top. Hermione taking her latest glass, her third very slowly so as to inhibit herself from acting silly or saying something that had been on her mind.

With his charming wit, his dazzling eyes and gorgeous dark tresses, Sirius Black was a dream. He held that darker exterior, wanting the world and his family to know that he was tougher than he looked. He had very little shame, only when he dropped a memory in about his family, but it was his new beginning when he was sixteen and running away that really made him who he was on that September, 1981 day. Full of life, no fear and all the dreams in the world, he hadn't a clue what his destiny was.

The music carried on in the background when they finally made it to their main course. Absolutely smitten, Hermione was most impressed with their joint cooking efforts, even if they did add a little too much pepper and they found themselves taking more and more sips from their wine glasses.

Sirius had just finished a bite, his fork still steaming and he rested an elbow on the table to talk, "So, what about you? What does your family do?"

Luckily, Hermione had a mouthful, which gave her a few moments to think of a fake story, but then she realized that he would probably never ever meet them, so she told the truth. "They're dentists. I'm an only child and was raised with muggle parents. I had no idea, until I got my letter."

Sirius looked over at her upon the word, "letter".

"I mean my letter in America. They sent it out the same way. That's how my parents discovered I was a witch. It was a big shock, but they took it rather well. On holidays, we'd come over here and explore the wizarding parts of London and my parents just laughed at all the things they never noticed before." Hermione went on, part lying, part telling the truth and he held onto her every word like he were dictating it to memory. His eyes bore on her intently and he asked questions when he didn't hear something clearly.

"And what of your boyfriend? Is he actually American?"

How was she to answer this one? Should Ron be British?

"He is. He's a wizard as well. He comes from a long line of wizards, a good proud family with good values and morals."

"And he didn't come over with you, why?" Sirius asked, taking a sip of his wine as if he were testing her or rather testing himself.

"Because, we needed space." Hermione was telling the truth this time. Though very fond of Ron, their split had been mutual, but it was the long time connection she had shared with him that was the somber part.

Her thoughts fell onto the older Sirius and the invitation to stay at Grimmauld Place as she got back on her feet from moving out of her and Ron's flat. She remembered him being adamant about staying as long as she wanted, or permanently. He was so kind to her, a good trusted friend about it. Though the Obliviate charm seemed a good suggestion from her Time Turner books, it was obvious that something had happened and the older Sirius remembered her, even after his Azkaban and Veil years. Sitting here at his dinner table, cooking with him, riding his motorbike; they had interacted entirely too much to be a fading memory, now.

"Space? As in, you're not together?"

_Yes._

"No. We are we're just...having problems." Hermione was quick to give herself a relationship alibi so as not to lead Sirius on. She felt like in some ways, she needed protection against him.

He looked at her solemnly, as if she was under glass and he could not touch her. His deep dark eyes were on her; as if he was reading her mind, but she knew he didn't have that talent. An animagus, yes, but not the ability to read her thoughts. He was intelligent and very talented, that's why Hermione had liked him. Only now, as she felt his knee brush past hers unsure if it was deliberate or not, did she feel that she was succumbing to that Black charm she had heard about.

"And you?" Hermione averted her eyes from his, after feeling a new connection slowly developing between them. She needed to put a quick stop to it, before she allowed herself to say, or worse, do something irrational. "I've seen you with at least two different witches these past couple of weeks. Which, by the way, the one from that night in the pub gave me a look of daggers. I hope I didn't disrupt anything." Hermione questioned.

Sirius was just taking another bite off his fork when he slowly smiled to himself, "Giselle and Bridgette are not my exclusives. I don't have any. I just...go with whatever feels right, I guess."

"But, you do want it, right?" Hermione had all but finished most on her plate. She lifted the glass with a steady wrist and rested her chin on the back of her hand as she talked, gazing at him.

Sirius glanced over with low, seductive eyes, "Wait, what are we talking about, first? I always want..._it_."

The rose returned to Hermione's cheeks and she bashfully turned away upon hearing a light chuckle coming from her dinner companion. Almost forgetting where she was, she bit the inside of her lip before refocusing on where she was going with her train of thought.

"I meant stability. You want constancy, don't you? You want what James has, don't you?"

This time, Sirius looked at her, he did not glance. In fact, he was done with his dinner and he raised his glass before assuring, "That's not me."

"What do you mean that's not you? Of course it is. Everyone wants that. I can see it in your eyes." Her voice was slightly argumentative, but still pretty calm.

"Can you? Then look in my eyes, Hermione. Tell me what you see," Sirius said. Not that he was bothered about her line of questioning, but it the fact that he'd just met someone that seemed to have such a grasp on life, that it nearly intimidated him. How someone, his own age, could see the world from such a grand outside eye. How was it, did she just not care? How was it that she didn't waste time on the more materialistic things in life? She was a woman, after all.

Sitting back in her seat, she studied him carefully. Hermione did not mean to upset him, but when he called her out she wondered if the confidence of the wine was going to allow her the honesty he asked for.

"With you, I see your desire to be so independent. You're only twenty-one, but you've been a grown-up for quite sometime. You have lived your life by your rules, brought up by terrible morals and yet, you made it through the black smoke to find the right in the wrongs you were told. Your life is still a big question for you. Your mates are getting on, but you still feel trapped in that adolescence, you might not know how to continue."

Sirius just watched her, his brow furrowing just slightly, but she did not stop.

"You have no idea, but your life will be filled. Your family is James, Lily, Remus and Harry...and Peter. You need to always know that. Don't underestimate yourself, do not ever feel like you were cheated and never, please never in your dying days, believe that you didn't mean something."

You could hear a pin drop in the room they sat in. The music played on from the other room, but yet it seemed so quiet as he stared at her through eyes of glass. His palms were flat on the counter, rather than balled up into a fist. His chest didn't move, which nearly made her believe that he might not have been breathing. Finally, his eyes dropped to the empty plate in front of him, she noticed him swallow and allowed her truth to settle into his core.

"Sirius?" The last sip of wine made her realize how much she had said and for a second, believed she might have said too much. As if she could see him thinking, he did not say a word to her. Instead, he slowly rose from his seat, leaving her at the table and walked to his front door where he quietly escaped. "Oh, shit."

After a few minutes to compose herself, Hermione flipped back her hair, fixing it properly and went to join him outside. He stood out in the front garden by the front door, running one hand through his hair and the other holding a lit cigarette. The hair hand then rested on his hip, pulling his shirt taut against his body.

The door shut quietly behind her as she leaned against the doorframe, hoping not to have set him off completely. Here she was trying to help him, but not remain a strong memory in his future, only to probably have opened her mouth and let it all out.

"Sirius? I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He turned around to face her. A faint light from the half moon above them bathed her in a warm blue hue. "Don't be. Please, don't be. I'm just....I'm just amazed that we just met and already, you've figured me out. Well, not everything, but a good part of me. Do I know you?" He moved closer to slowly, looking up as if searching her face for something familiar.

"No," she said, shaking her head. He was so beautiful in the night time air.

"Have we met, have I done something to you...another life perhaps?" He rambled off a few things, and then finally settled on the last silly suggestion. He smiled as he listened to his own words.

Hermione bowed her head, wishing that she hadn't said as much as she had. A flicker of guilt was starting to settle in her chest, when she realized that she was beginning to allow herself to give in to him. As he asked, almost with a plea of slight desperation, it exposed a hint of fear in his eyes.

"Then, yes. Another life, we have." She couldn't look at him. She felt compelled to just take out the Time Turner and go back to her own time. She feared she may have seriously disrupted something.

Hermione was still at first, but then she slowly nodded to let him know that she wasn't anything more. For a second, she nearly thought he might have believed her to be a follower of Voldemort out to lure him, but he didn't want to believe it.

"Yes, but please, let's just leave it at that," she practically begged.

Sirius couldn't help but gaze up at her like Romeo to Juliet. She stood there looking so innocent, romantically leaning against his door frame, full of knowledge. She was so incredibly different, so not what he thought he wanted and yet, they were actually talking about generations, past lives and current events. That never happened to him.

"And I can't do anything."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up from heavily lidded eyes.

"With you. Never in my life have I experienced anyone quite like you and yet, I feel compelled to be good. Like this cosmic force is making me not be an asshole."

A blanket of peace started to befall over her. A sweet tinge elated her with the idea that he was remotely interested in her. Suddenly, her repercussions weren't as important as they were to make this wizard happy. Like wanting to taste that luscious dessert, she felt the urge to jump into his arms and warm him, but instead she averted her eyes to the ground to avoid his intense stare.

Like approaching a timid animal, he slowly climbed the two stairs up to his stoop to meet her, holding his cigarette behind his back. He tilted his head as if coax her to meet his eyes. He made it to the top step as she sunk into the doorframe, nervous to meet him, but she could not escape. She didn't want to.

"What can I do to win you over, Hermione?"

As if all the air between them had been sucked out of her lungs, she quietly gasped, suffocated by his charm. His smell was beginning to act like a drug on her, her head started to fill with the sound of voice as if he were an angel. Torn between rational and irrational, already she found herself breaking a number or rules, just by succumbing to the idea that she could answer such a question.

_This is so wrong!_

Finally, parting her lips she managed to find the inkling of strength within her to push him away, but it was quickly beaten down by the thought of him. The way he approached her so carefully. The way he smelled. The way he looked. The way he said her true name in a voice that could sing to the Gods that he was perfect, well nearly, in every way. She was letting herself cross that line. She was allowing herself to succumb to such a dangerous game. She was falling...

_Fuck the rules!_

Boldly, she raised her chin, meeting his dark orbs like a hypnotizing watch before her eyes and said with the bravery of a mouse, "I could never be with anyone that smoked."

He never broke eye contact with her and watched her carefully, as if studying for a challenge. He flicked his cigarette without looking, removed the half full pack of Marlboros from his back pocket and squeezed the package in his hand, destroying the rest of them. "It was a nice long nasty habit, anyway. What next?"

Her scared smile curved to a coy grin at the side of her mouth and she challenged him. "He has to always do the dishes."

Like his wall had finally broken down, he smiled; pleased he had finally reached a meeting place with her. His face brightened and then his jaw dropped, looking scandalized. The sound of her laughter filled his ears and he reached for her, hoping to pull her in. She obeyed, though she wouldn't let him kiss her, but allowed herself to be embraced and for the first time she finally knew what it was like to be cared for by Sirius Black.


	14. Dirty Little Secret

_A note from Serade Black: We're crawling along. I want to apologize for a few inconsistancies along the way. For those that pointed them out, thank you. For those that haven't noticed, thank you as well. The pieces are getting in place and I cannot thank you enough for all of the readers that take the time - from all over the world - to read this. I want to give a big hello to the countries I never thought would be reading my work as I sit here in America -Thailand, Egypt and Lithuania! HELLO! Enjoy the story! Thank you for all your reviews - they make me very very happy! ~SB_

Ch. 14 - "Dirty Little Secret"

She felt like thousands of eyes watched from generations ahead of them. She was overwhelmed with the complex situation, that she was torn between feeling absolute rightness and blatant guilt. He was like a peaceful stream coming down from an obstacle of rocks and boulders, making everything around her feel serene.

So different than what she had experienced before whenever she'd embraced him. This was not the platonic hug he had given her on various holiday celebrations at Grimmauld Place. This was something stronger, deeper, more intimate that she suspected the way he ran his fingers over her back was a hint in what he had intended.

Feeling him hold her, pulling her tight against his taut chest with the strong heartbeat in a youthful shell, was like pretending the Dark Lord wasn't around. Her energy was up, her adoration for him was strengthening and when he moved an arm away to reach for the door handle so they could go back inside, she didn't let go of him when they moved over the threshold.

Sirius did half the dishes, not letting her so much as dry a glass, before he took out his wand from his back pocket and charmed a scrubber to finish the job. He had properly prepared by tying his hair back and putting on gloves as he dove into the soapy water. Each time he removed a bowl to be cleaned, he would glance up hopeful, making she was carefully watching him.

He put on the kettle and let it brew as she walked around the counter to sit and talk to him. He took two small tea cups down that were black with a silver design. They looked rich, elegant and it appeared that though he was not proud of his family, he still remained to have nice tastes. The decor of the house reflected that, as the style was more modern and far from the standard wizard's home that was usually adorned by past relatives antiques.

He kept his head low, carefully pouring the hot water into the cups, asking her how she made her tea and fixed it for her. He handed her the saucer, the spoon laying on the side as if he was born to do this for her.

Taking the ornate cup carefully, she shied away from his enlightened face. She was not used to be doted on like this. Sure Ron did things for her, Viktor was all right as well, but outside of those two little worlds, she was still much unpampered. This man, though coming from a tainted family, was an old soul. You could tell that he wanted to do this for, he felt good natured about it and it was obvious he wanted to try and impress her. In the end, she guessed that it was just a true piece of him that he was unveiling. A piece of him that probably didn't normally come out under past circumstances.

The old music played on from the other room. The tempo of the big band seemed to pick up on their moods; fast paced when they cooked and slow jazzy when they were talking to one another. Their conversations carried on beyond tea, through books and finally onward to his next plan of action.

He went from leaning against his kitchen counter to hoisting himself up behind onto it. He leaned forward, his socked feet dangling over the side and the rip in his jeans exposing his knee. He cradled his cup in his hands as he stared into its contents.

"So, Sunday," Sirius began, his voice was slightly hesitant. He swallowed before he finished. "Are you free in the evening?"

Hermione was just putting her cup down and swallowing the warm soothing honey taste, "That depends."

He took a deep breath, like he was sticking his neck out by even asking her. Not that he was afraid of rejection; it was that he was afraid of progress he was making with himself. The way he fingered the outside of his cup made it obvious that it was not easy for him to get out.

"I think I'd love it, if you came with me to my cousin's house."

"What for? Another homemade dinner?" she smiled.

He nodded, "Yes, but also for a little more."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in query. He didn't mean to come across as randy, but his statement did. He glanced up when she didn't say anything and saw that he had put her in an odd place by what he was requesting.

He grinned and shook his head, "Every week, we go over to my Cousin Andromeda's house and she teaches how to dance."

Hermione lowered one eyebrow and a slight smile at the side of her mouth curved. "Andromeda is kind of an outcast, like I am. Both disowned by our families, we kind of stick together. So, for the last few years, my mates and I, including Lily, have all gone over there and danced."

He looked up to watch her face for any kind of reaction. An odd request, but he's never felt comfortable enough to bring anyone along with him to such a strange pastime. He watched her slight smile turn into a grin, appearing to be impressed with someone that came across as dark as he did, show interest in something so simple.

The first thoughts came to mind, were that he admitted to her about being disowned by his family. The second was that he was truly trying to connect with her from a different prospective than he'd ever before, thus proving that new ground was being covered and that dreaded onto the danger zone of where they were currently heading. But, Hermione just smiled. Overjoyed to discover this hidden little secret that Sirius had harbored all these years. But, then again, it made sense. He was a lovely dancer on her birthday and he made it so easy to follow. How was she to know he'd had lessons as a young man?

She thought about meeting Andromeda, then little Nymphadora. A side of history only just touched on, but greatly touched by. The sound of Lily's name, however, made her start to rethink everything. She was getting way too close to the center of it all and all she wanted to do was just get to know Sirius, and leave it at that.

Her thinking process expressed slight discomfort and Sirius was reading it too soon as rejection. He felt he needed to save it.

"I've, ah, never brought a girl over to her house, before. So, this would be new for me, as well." He swallowed his pride as he noticed her slightly shifting in her seat and focusing more on the tea cup in her hands. He jumped down off the counter and walked across the kitchen. Leaning over, he rested his elbows on the counter top and let his hair fall around his face romantically, posing a picture she could not resist. "Do me a favor and not breathe a word of it to anyone and I'll be elated if you came with me."

Her eyes lifted to meet his as he leaned a few inches away from her. Her fingers still outlining the handle of the black tea cup. She was flattered that he felt free enough to ask her, but he was making it so hard to say no. "I'll go."

"And remember," he added, his voice sounding smooth. "Not a word to anyone?"

"Are you kidding?" she started to tease. A hint of flirtation in her eyes drove him into a half grin. "I'm going down to the Leaky Cauldron right now and tell the entire pub that you waltz with your cousin every week!"

Feeling too much on the spot, she rose to pretend like she was leaving when he caught her hands in his and came around the counter that separated them. He stood a few inches in front of her and raised her hand over her head in order for her to half turn around, the first steps in his waltz.

"It is my dirty little secret, so don't say anything," he soothed. His voice was like an enchantment and when she came back around to face him from her slow turning spin, she felt enlightened.

The moment between thickened, with the two of them staring at one another for a few seconds too long before Hermione glanced away. She swallowed nervously, clearing her throat and letting go of his hands to give them some distance.

Hermione turned and took a few steps away from him, feigning interest by looking around his house to admire the decor again. She needed to give them space, she needed to liven up the mood a little, and for fear that he might actually feel compelled to make a move at the rate they were going.

"So, does that mean that you're not meeting me in front of Flourish and Blotts tomorrow?" she asked, titling her head to make out a picture that hung on the wall. A strange sort of drawing with buildings and stairs connecting peaked her interest and it was good mood breaker once she involved logic.

Sirius watched her leave him and try to preoccupy her mind elsewhere. He had obviously put her in a state of slight discomfort and in the back of his mind; he could almost hear the voice of the other wizard that called her name.

After a few minutes of silence between them, Hermione turned to see him still staring after her. He looked particularly handsome with the way he displayed a hopeful heart. So dangerous, so enticing, so not right. His intense gaze at her was almost distracting, that she'd forgotten what it was she asked. Then, it came back to her.

"I asked if you were still meeting me tomorrow in front of the book store?" she repeated again, quietly.

Sirius shook his head slightly, as if trying to refocus after letting his imagination and inner monologue get the best of him over the pretty brunette that walked through the house. For a moment, he faltered and glanced over to his calendar, squinting his eyes to read the day of the week. He lingered long enough for Hermione to follow his eyes to the calendar, wondering what he was looking at for so long. She noticed that on Saturday night, it was a full moon.

"Ah, no," he looked back at Hermione who was waiting for an answer, meeting his eyes as they moved from the calendar. "The guys and I have this monthly thing that we do. It's a ritual, you could say."

Hermione just gazed at him, like a shining beacon of history. In a flash, she thought about his moments as a young man, running wild with his three best friends under the full moon. The stories that Remus had told them all those years ago in the Shrieking Shack all coming true, as she lived to stand in his living room. The very moments that Remus described so vividly were happening, tomorrow night.

She nodded slowly, understanding, "Got it."

It was important that he be with the guys, but a small flicker of him wanted to spend time with her. So, he reminded himself about the situation with a small joke, "Sorry, but it usually lands us passed out in an abandoned house somewhere."

The grandfather clock in the other room gonged loud enough to be heard over the big band music. It had been slowed to a moderate tempo with low sounding notes for their conversation and, her otherwise, gazing. Like Cinderella turning changing back into rags, she was suggesting that he take her home for the evening.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The cold night wind blew around them fiercely as Sirius weaved and bobbed between black cabs. Their only fares being that of pub dwellers on the look-out for a take-out joint that was open and selling hot curry after copious amounts of lager. To them, Hermione and Sirius were nothing but a blur or something they may have seen in their peripheral vision.

Her hair whipped around her head, keeping it close to Sirius's shoulder to break the air hitting her face. Her arms clutched him tightly around the outside of his blazer with her hands laying flat against his stomach in the fast ride. The hypnotic ride caused her to close her eyes as she imagined the older Sirius sitting on top of the same mechanical throne, donned in his slacks and finer threads of velvet and silk with the same cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. She could almost see his masculine hands with tattooed fingers wrapping around the handlebars rekindling a youth he thought he could no longer salvage. In the back of her head, she heard his deep bark-like laugh fill the air around him...

Instead, she felt the heartbeat of the younger version. Her fingers now splayed over his chest and stomach; her purpose no longer holding him for safety. His jet black hair blowing before her, his young hands on the handlebars and the tip of his wand poking her in the belly as it stuck out of his back pocket.

He pulled onto Marley Street, the surrounding houses quiet and lit for the night. Under his breath, Sirius murmured a stealth charm to lessen the sound of his roaring engine, so as not to disturb the neighbors. The partially full moon illuminated the streets, casting a blue hue over their skin. The air was crisp and cool and she could almost feel the tension that was about to progress through their good night.

He cut the engine and removed the keys from the ignition, sliding them into his front pocket as he lifted himself off the motorcycle. He turned around and stood on the sidewalk with his hand extended like a wicked dark prince.

Hermione swallowed as her eyes trailed down his backside, to the slightly baggy seat of his jeans. Chiseled for perfection, she lingered a little too long on his thighs, before noticing his hand was out to help her off the bike.

Awkward like a first date, Hermione's heart was racing. His aura was so inviting, the smooth sound of his voice made her want to engage him in further conversation, and to see the youth in his face was enough to just make her forget what it was she had come here for. Her gut told her that she had made some progress, but she hadn't succeeded the entire way, yet. Everything just seemed so rushed, like she was looking for opportunities to bring up the subject of how important he was, but there was still something she was missing entirely.

Regardless, they had approached the front door. His boots had made heavy clicks as they hit the pavement leading up to the stoop and he leaned casually against the doorframe like a pin up poster. His shaded eyes were watching her, secretly scanning her up and down, waiting for any opportunity to speak. If she felt like he did, silence was enough to keep them drawn to one another.

"I'm just making sure you get inside, all right," he nearly whispered. His voice almost seductive.

Swallowing again, she glanced to her side where he stand and started to reach into her satchel to search for her keys in the bottom of its black abyss. Something to do, something to listen to, anything to break the steel lock he had on her. She swallowed again. Finally, her fingers just graced the top of the metal rings and she gripped them tightly so as not to embarrass herself and lose them again.

Fishing them out, she put them right into the lock and turned, hearing the click of the mechanism inside the door handle, signifying the ending of their evening.

Just as the click of the lock filled their ears, Sirius slid his hand out of his pocket and reached to free some strands of hair away from her. They had blown romantically in her face, as if he'd conjured up the small breeze himself in order to touch her. Slender fingers grazed lightly behind her ear and then his forefinger gently glided up under her chin and down her neck.

Hermione froze.

She turned her head slowly to look at him; her lips parting from the gentle caress. Her heart was fluttering enough that she was afraid it would jump out of her chest. Even on the cool night, his tender touch had felt like warm lava on her skin and it was hard to tear away from him.

He wanted to touch her; his skin was beginning to burn for it. Like moth, she was his flame and he was more than willing to die a painful death if he could just touch those lips for one moment. Like a drug he so needed, he believed she held the power to make things right in him. That cosmic pull that he spoke of earlier was stronger than ever and she stood before him like a mysterious beacon of reason.

She was a good unique spirit; a woman he needed to know. But, she was another wizard's girl. _Do unto others_, they say.

His eyes spoke to her in a silent language. As if using telepathy, she knew what he was trying to say and it was rich, romantic and overall just too much to turn away from. The way his eyes glistened in the moonlight like he harbored a dark beast with a gentle heart, she was finding it more and more difficult to look away from him and without thinking she was unable to resist from licking her lips, even just a little. The little voice in her head getting quieter and quieter and pretty soon the irrational side of Hermione Granger was taking over.

_Oh, for the love of Merlin, just kiss me! Don't do this to me. Don't make me make a decision, because I might not be in the right mindset to choose wisely._

The quiet voice in her head shook her mentally and she summoned the strength to turn away and glance at the keys dangling from the lock. Over and over in her mind, she replayed the way his fingers practically burned her; he was making her so hot. Just the run of his nails under her jaw line and down over her partially exposed neck sent goose bumps all over her; he couldn't have missed that. Defeat was edging in and she broke all the rules by being completely, irrationally, unethically...aroused.

"You know I'm surprised," his grave voice broke their silence. "Your boyfriend didn't even come by and leave you a note about you being gone."

Hermione heard his voice, but she didn't register what he was saying. Instead, she just turned her head and slowly raised her eyes up over his chest, over his lips and settled into his intense wanting stare. He still leaned against her doorframe and reached up to slide a finger down her cheek again and then let his hand slide down into her palm. Slowly, he lifted the back of her hand to his lips. Hermione could no longer breathe just through her nose and realized that she was practically panting silently for him.

"Yes, well," she had to swallow again; her breath slightly ragged. "Hence, the space."

Two seconds, three seconds, five seconds...his eyes looked up to hers from leaving a kiss on the back of her hand. He was entranced like a vampire sucking blood from a victim and oh how she wished he would bite her. His luscious locks fell and framed his face, leaving her in a slight state of awe.

He straightened up; giving her a side glance as he started to retreat down the stairs to return to his bike. He sighed to himself, wishing the back of her hand had been her lips, but he felt like it was forbidden. He made the mistake of mentioning the boyfriend and to him, it needed to act like red tape around her. She was not available. He could not pursue, as tempting as it was. But, at least he was able to make a small breakthrough tonight, and he managed to quit a disgusting habit.

"I never said thank you," she called out, as if throwing a line out to make him return.

He walked backwards down the sidewalk, "You already did."

"Then, I'm saying it again. I had a really," she paused. "I had a really good time."

Sirius stopped and looked at her, before he crossed beyond the small little fence. He ran a hand through his hair to ease his own nerves and added, "So did I." His statement was truer than he could convey. It was the best night he'd ever had with a woman. He glanced away for a moment, summoning the courage to say what he wanted. "You know," he looked back at her. "I was going to kiss you good night."

Hermione's heart stopped, the blood rushing to her head. She nearly trembled as she asked, "Why didn't you?"

"Because, I'm not allowed," he answered simply; conflicted. "You're another wizard's girl...and I really envy that son of a bitch."

Hermione said nothing. Her insides were screaming out to him, she wanted so badly to be bad. Her fists balled together, her eyes slightly tearing up over her own betrayal. He was far enough from to not notice her lip quivering over how upset she was making herself.

"Good night," he practically whispered, his eyes lingering on her a second longer.

She blinked long and her body stiffened, "Good night, Sirius."

Finally, she turned around he pushed herself through the door. Deep breaths came to her like she had been submerged under water for hours without air. A quiet roar of his engine outside of the house indicated that he was turning around and with one more rev of the machine, as if to say good-bye, he was disappearing into the night skies and out of earshot.

Her head rested against the hard oak door, making a quiet thud with its contact. Feeling had returned to her legs, but she still felt weak and she allowed her limp body to slide down the door like a broken doll propped up in a corner. The fog was starting to clear in her head and she was beginning to see the potential damage she was creating. She was no longer just a moment of deja vu, she was to be an imprinted memory in him that was going to be very difficult to erase.

That is, if she tried.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0

On the second floor, around the banister, down the hall and into the bathroom, Hermione was applying a light colored lipstick. Not a fan of make-up, she had gotten used to herself as a "natural beauty" as Ron called her a few times; she was just more often being known for not getting too dressed up. Occasionally she would make an effort aside from her normal everyday routine, but for some insane reason, she found herself dabbing a little more color on her lips than normal.

Hermione jumped when she heard the door bell ring downstairs. Turning her head, as if having second thoughts about meeting all these people that she'd only heard about and not going anywhere with Sirius, made her breath parched. With a final look in the mirror to give herself a once over, she frowned and reached for a tissue to remove the silly lipstick on her way down the stairs.

She took in many small breaths, searching for the confidence to keep him at bay and to not allow her to be delivered to temptation. Her hand reached for the silver knob and slowly she turned it to open up a scene of wondrous perfection leaning against the door frame looking like a James Dean poster with his smirky smile.

Her lips parted as her eyes traveled the length of him from his black onyx necklace, a maroon colored button up shirt with the top three buttons undone, fitted black pants and a dusty looking blazer with fashionable ripped seams. His layered locks fell romantically around his face and his lips incredibly inviting with their side smirk.

"Evening miss," he said casually. He knew what he looked like and he knew what he was doing to her. If her lack of breath the night before had been any inclination, he was so close to seeing her white flag.

She found it difficult to form vowels; her throat was beginning to get very dry and all she was able to muster was a silly grin. She stepped back to allow him inside the house, her eyes following his every move like she'd never seen him before. _Stop this! It's unethical!_

His boots clicking on the wood floors woke her up to the reality around them and how real he truly was. A danger to them both, she would try and find the courage to go on knowing him, but at a safe distance. She feared herself to be weak and his entire package, although slowly reminding her of who he will be as he gets older, was a little too much for her.

Befriend him, she will. Fall for him, she will not.

"Sirius, what happened?" Hermione had paused her momentary oogling, when she noticed a cut deep over his right eye. She was reaching to place her fingers around it, to better view it, seeing that the wound was a slash clear through his eyebrow.

He moved out of her reach before she could touch him, taking the opportunity to hold her hand for a few seconds. He smiled sweetly at her, touched for her concern, but shrugged it off like all the other major cuts, bruises or scrapes he had received over the past years since he had befriended Remus and discovered his "gift".

"I'm fine, love. Really, it's nothing. Just got into a bit of a pub fight last night with the boys," he covered.

The moon was full the night before, hence the reason he was unable to meet her. Sirius, James, and Peter had accompanied Remus during his werewolf transformation and by the looks of the serious scratch on his forehead and a bruise around his neck; it must have gotten a little bit rough.

"Are you sure? I'm sure my aunt might have something to put on that, to help. I could whip something together, a special cream perhaps?" Hermione's voice was that of a concerned den mother taking care of her boys. The voice was also used quite frequently when around Ron and Harry.

He shook his head, declining any kind of special care. If anything, he rather liked the occasional bruising or scars. It added definite character.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," he reached up and affectionately pinched her chin lightly to let his fingers caress her skin. She was quickly becoming a strong desire of his and he was finding it harder and harder to go without touching her.

Hermione just watched his eyes look over her face, knowing that he was secretly admiring her. It would otherwise make her nervous, being put on the spot like that, but he made her feel calm about it all. She had no objections to letting his fingers graze her chin, in fact she enjoyed the light flutter whenever he was near.

"Did your boyfriend come and see you?" Sirius asked, as if putting water on a slow growing fire.

She swallowed and turned her face out of his grip. His question was a sad reminder of their situation, for he was beginning to become something she could never have. Even if she went back home and tried to rekindle anything like this with the older Sirius, it wouldn't work. He'd think of her as a child. As a smitten younger woman whose mind wasn't in the right place.

As she turned away, she reached for her purse that sat on a nearby hutch, lying about said boyfriend.

"Yes, it was very nice. I saw him yesterday."

It was Sirius's turn to swallow, feeling a slight pang in his heart that she had been away from him. For mysteries he could not place his finger on, he had his eye on her. She was becoming his focus that it perplexed him beyond explanation.

"Did it go well?" he dreaded.

"I'd rather not say."

"Does it give me any further clearance?" he asked.

As if he'd said something slightly offensive, when really it was she just taking it out on him over their situation. She quickly cooled and tilted her head, but hesitated to say anything more. She wanted to tell him there was no boyfriend, that she was from another time and anything they did or reacted to might sincerely damage their friendship in the future over some childish flirting. The repercussions were so severe...they were biting at her like a dog.

In seconds, she went from slightly irritated, to annoyed, to compassion, to want and she said no more than to bite her lip.

"You're not answering me," he fished; an eyebrow rose. "Should I be hopeful?"

The small space between them as they stood in her foyer was tight, but Sirius made it tighter as he felt the encouragement to step closer.

"Hermione?" he asked using a finger to lift her chin.

_Answer him!_

Her silence was precious to him. He was almost pleased to hear that she had not answer for him.

"Might I add, that you look positively-" he paused as he watched her blink. Her stare was intense. "That you look positively beautiful, tonight?"

_Please don't!_

She felt the pit of her stomach retching, her heart tugging and her will power slowly decreasing as she listened to the hypnotic tone of his voice. His gentle touch, even with just a finger, was like velvet passing over her skin.

"Can we go?" she asked meekly in a strained whisper.

Sirius believed her whispered voice to be that of someone slowly letting go of their inhibitions and he didn't want to lose her so quickly. Push her, he might. Shove her, he wouldn't. The game wouldn't be right.

He opened the door for her and two of them filed out.

"So, we floo?" she asked casually, noticing his bike parked in her front garden.

"No, we walk."

"But, I thought we were going to use the Floo Network."

As they passed through her little white gate, Sirius latching it behind him, she watched him carefully as if he was going to pull out a magical port key hidden somewhere.

"No, first we pub, then we Apparate." He placed a hand on the small of her waist, careful not to push her, and the two of them walked down the sidewalk to the end of Marley, before turning right.

The night air was crisp and cool, not damp and muggy. A scent was in the air that made the winds change their direction enough to encourage stimulation between strangers. In their case, it was a relationship of learning. Neither one knew what was going on and for half of the party, the more dominating one, it was a good thing. Too many bad things could come out of this, if they were to press on, seeing as the temptation as so great.

Sirius remained to be the same person he had grown into. A few more lines around his eyes, less jewelry and trinkets worn, but the characteristics were all still there. The lighter attitude for life was around him, that it was almost intoxicating in a time of woe.

The Daily Prophet had a body count and, as dismal as it sounds, Hermione read the paper carefully. Watching for names, learning new names, discovering old magic tricks that were used to deceive the good during Voldemort's rein. Stories of frightened witches and wizards, some never leaving their house, scattered the pages, leaving no room for stories of good or overpowerment.

Even walking next to Sirius through the muggle streets proved to be a bit intimidating, but Sirius always had a hand in his back pocket, his fingers clutched around his wand in the event he might need it.

"You can't live in fear," he said, after Hermione had brought up the latest body count in Europe being around the thousands. "Otherwise, you'll forget to live."

"But, there is a difference between living and taking chances."

"Taking chances is living, Hermione. You can't go through life not believing that there is more good than bad. You can't pretend that you're not going to get hurt. And you certainly cannot go through life second guessing everyone." The two of them walked in tandem as the creaking sign of a metal witch stirring a pot came into view.

"Well, I will agree with that. However, you must always be on your guard no matter - _Expelliarmus_!" she quipped. Sirius's wand had flown out of his pocket, as his fingers clenched it, and into her hand.

Sirius stopped his hands out and his fingers splayed. His feet had immediately positioned himself into a fighting stance, sans wand. He looked momentarily defeated, before he saw that glimmer of sparkle in her eye. The corners of his mouth slowly curved, pointing a clever and wise finger at her as he straightened back up.

She stood there, twirling his wand in her hand as her own was pushed back into her purse that hung from her arm. "Trust no one, Mr. Black," she smirked.

He slowly closed the space between them as they stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron. She was stiff and he was insistent. He took his wand from her hand and held its tip behind her ear, "My father is Mr. Black. I'm always Sirius, to you."

His intimidation tactic failed miserably, but still served as an incredibly suave move to make her lower lip quiver.

He opened the door for her and allowed his pretty brunette in the purple pastel top and gray

Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius stepped forward to grab the door for his pretty young brunette in the purple pastel top and gray A-line skirt to walk ahead of him. Not matching her attire in his darker colors, the two were such an odd couple side by side that by the second they walked in, Hermione's plan to stay incognito was flushed way faster than a typhoon. All eyes were on them, or rather all ladies' eyes were on him, when they first walked in. Several nearby wizards called his name, one or two wizards got up and left the pub itself when he was seen and lastly, the bartender, Tom, stopped what he was doing and came over to shake Sirius's hand and get his usual.

The pub was very crowded that evening. People were hidden under archways that led up the stairs to the rooms. Female groups were talking loudly, comparing their new wands. Dark cloaked figures occasionally passed through from the Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley, and probably into Knockturn Alley, by the looks of their aura. No one was to be trusted and Hermione was immediately on her guard, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who might remember her years from now.

Two pints later and a friendly nod from Tom saying it was on the house for Sirius, the two were walking towards a vacant table under an archway. As they settled in, Hermione glanced up at one of the pillars noticing a sneering Stubby Boardman poster. He was holding his guitar, like a trophy, his tongue hanging out and his more than necessary chest hair glistening in the sweat beads. What concerned her was not the sight of the poster, but the placement of the poster on the pillar. Hermione could remember fondly of her third year of Hogwarts and remembered the sight of someone looking back at her with a most horrifying face. Sunken eyes, thin pale skin and matted black hair. The face that, presently, was smiling to her like a Cheshire cat, telling her how pretty she looked sitting there in front of him. The face of a Wanted poster.

"Something wrong?" Sirius asked, licking his lips after taking the first sip from his pint glass.

Hearing his voice gave her a mental shake and she focused back on him as she raised the wine glass to her lips. "No, fine."

"You seemed to be set back for a moment. Revisiting a memory?"

"Kind of."

"Is it something dark, sultry, dirty..." he began as he leaned on his elbows trying to croon her.

"Sirius, no! Nothing like that, I'm afraid. I hate to disappoint you, but not everyone has such a mind as yours." Hermione felt her virtue was at stake if she allowed him such free tongue.

"I don't know. You have this thing about- Oh, this guys is such a prick!" Sirius cut himself off as his eyes glanced towards the door of the pub.

Hermione followed Sirius's eyes and immediately, hers widened. In the junior billowing robes, the shoulder length black hair and the sour look over his face, Severus Snape had just walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Standing tall, proud and with his fists balled, it appeared like he had already been ruffled up a bit before stepping foot in the pub.

Sirius had no filter and stood up violently to stomp swiftly across the pub in his direction; hits clicking hard on the wooden floor. In an instance, Snape turned and saw a grimacing Sirius heading his way. His wand hand was lightning fast and he had it out faster than a flutter of a hummingbird's wing and pressing into Sirius's throat.

Sirius showed no fear, but his temper had risen so quickly the veins in his neck were tightening and protruding. "Do it, you coward! Show your true colors, you git!"

The two men had drawn every pair of eyes onto them, that they were the scene. Good versus evil stood at each other's disposal. There was no denying how much loathing the two men had for one another that they were like to sides of a war into to two people.

"I can have you, Sirius. I can simply end your life. All I have to do is say it." Snape's voice was calm and nasally, but still menacing. He was tired of being picked on, tired of being at this man's mercy and it was going to come to a head here.

Looking away like watching a terrible train wreck about to happen, Hermione fought the urge to go and interrupt them. Sure she should, they were both men her own age dealing with their inner egos and the differences they had, but it was not her place.

Colorful words flew between the two as the spectators watched; Sirius trying to denounce his name and Snape so badly wishing to be in. Tom the bartender had come out from behind the bar and held onto a nearby pillar, both hoping to see if any action was to go down and on the other hand to hold up the pub if spells were cast.

With a quick flick of the wrist, Sirius whispered, "_Accio wand!"_ In a blink, Sirius had his own wand in his hand and the tip was aimed at Snape's temple.

Like the clash of good and evil trying desperately to prevail, it was the thick tension of detestation. Neither man was about to back down and it was only a matter of time before one of them reacted poorly.

Hermione bit her lip in panic, horrorstricken that this was happening. If it hadn't been for her, they wouldn't have had this run-in. She was the cause of it and it was just a tease of what damage she was beginning to embark upon.

All around her, she could hear the whispers of, "What if he...." or "Someone could die..." and it was enough for Hermione to finally take the matter to her own hands. Without a definite plan, she jumped up and quickly stepped between them, intervening.

"Stop it! Just stop it! Put those away!" Hermione cried out, holding the two back against their chests; her wand in between her fingers against Snape. She pushed Sirius's wand away from his Snape's temple and the same with Snape's from Sirius's throat. She paused for a moment, hoping the young professor would recognize her from the other day.

"Miss Rose?" he still called her by the only name he knew. "You associate with this freeloader?" Snape's lip began to sneer in disgust. The otherwise kinder side of him was beginning to fade and with whatever he had just endured before entering the pub, he was not in any kind of mood to hear an explanation. Nor, did he care.

"Professor, I'm sorry he did this," Hermione calmly excused.

"Don't apologize for me! What does he expect? He's a Death-!"

Hermione quickly took out her wand and silenced Sirius, freezing him in mid sentence and mid thought. He was frozen still. As she acted and Sirius was quiet and blinded, she turned back to Snape, "Just leave him alone. Go on and do what you have to. Don't disrupt anything in this pub that you might regret."

She had hoped that her message was clear enough. She was not looking for an altercation, nor did she want anything to happen between the two stubborn men. For something to happen between them in the Leaky Cauldron might somehow alter the timeline. She'd quickly realized that she had already caused a few ripples in it and vowed to be more careful in the next few weeks.

Like two black orbs, Snape's eyes stared her down as if he might strike, when she felt a twinge in her head. Not a strong one, not a painful one, but enough for her to take a breath and shake her head before refocusing on him. When she looked up again and saw that his face had changed and his look was not so intense, she knew. _He knew._

He gave her one more once over before giving her a single nod and turning to leave with a stiff straight back. He moved quickly and before she could say another word, he was vacant from the pub and away from sight. She glanced around, as if she'd just seen a ghost, but he was gone.

Hermione turned back to Sirius, releasing from his spell and waited for him to finish blowing up at the invisible Snape.

"Where is he? Where's Snivellus?" Sirius asked, turning in circles all around him and watching all the sets of eyes on him.

"He's gone." Hermione didn't explain any further, but turned to return to their table; Sirius was still looking back at everyone, searching for Snape's face.

"Nice one, miss!" Tom yelled from back behind the bar. Once he knew his pub was going to remain in one piece, he felt no worries to continue serving the latest Pumpkin mead on special.

Hermione quickly took her seat, wishing that she could cloak herself with Harry's invisibility robe. She blindly waved to Tom politely and watched as Sirius fell into his chair, as if he was breathless from a fight.

His temper was still boiling and he anxiously looked around, "Where'd he go, really?" He picked up his pint to take a big swig, consuming at least half of its contents.

"He, ah, ran off. Went out into the street. Quickly, actually." She lied, sipping her wine and looking at everything else, but at him. Satisfied, Sirius nodded his head, believing that to be the truth. "You know, you have a temper."

Sirius barely flinched and just licked his lips, "Possibly, so?"

"So, maybe you might try and tame yourself at times? You went off on him like a scary rabid dog!"

Due to lack of entertainment, the pub's crowd murmur started to rise and she beginning to settle again, not feeling so much on the spot.

Sirius shifted his body more towards their small table and leaned over towards her, "What if I told you I was?" He couldn't help but wink at her, before he took a drink again. He bared his teeth playfully, his eyes dark and low and with minimal effort, gave her the lustful look that he could easily devour her.

She felt compelled to match him and leaned in, quirking an eyebrow in defiance. "You don't scare me."

He leaned closer, elated that she had fed into his game and he crooned, "You haven't felt my bite."

He looked so smug, so arrogant, and so playful and she couldn't resist. "Neither have you." _Stop it! _

Walking up alongside of them was a pretty petite redhead that Hermione had seen standing next to Sirius on the street in Diagon Alley. She stopped at their table, crossing her arms in front of her and waited for Sirius to notice her, after she glared at Hermione. However, once he looked up, her scowling face softened almost immediately. Her body language was very submissive and it looked to Hermione like the girl was just pleased that Sirius had noticed her. That won her over, rather than jealousy.

"Sirius, you said you were never available on Sunday nights." The redhead was sincere, curious, but overall very sweet natured.

"I'm still not, Giselle." He gave no further answer; he didn't feel he had to. He looked back over at Hermione and winked, turning his attention back onto her.

"Sirius, you broke my heart," Giselle whispered, shaking her head and puckering her lower lip. Her eyes were on him with so much hope that she could barely hold it in. When he said nothing, her lower lip quivered and she stalked away from the small table, obviously torn.

Having never been on the other side of the fence before, Hermione couldn't help but feel compassion for the girl that walked away with her hand over her face. She was hurt, forgotten and thrown aside.

Hermione leaned closer over the table, her voice low and her demeanor not so flirtatious, "That was terribly cruel."

"Well, I was looking for a way to end it with her. You being with me just helped." Sirius thought no more on it and worked on finishing his pint glass.

"I'm not going to be your scapegoat. Now, you go over there right now, apologize, end it properly with her or I am going to tell Tom about your secret dancing life!" Her whisper was fierce, but her tone was enough to deter him from taking the last swig from his glass.

A flicker of fear passed over his eyes and he saw that she was not being sweet, like he liked. Rather he felt like a small child being scolded by an adult with the look she gave him from across the small table they shared.

"And take this with you!" Hermione picked her wand back up from the table and aimed it at the dying flower that lay drooping over a nearby cheap vase. She transformed it into a beautiful blooming rose and glared at Sirius to take his leave from her.

Sirius was stunned by her seriousness, to the point where he almost felt threatened. He saw that she was not going to back down over this and he let off a quiet low growl, snatched the rose from the vase, and stood up to go find the redheaded witch.

Hermione rested her chin on her wrist and watched him go; her eyes glancing to his rear and swallowing guilty. _Damn, he looks good._

Down the path, between the people, she saw Sirius engage with Giselle who was leaning on a friend's shoulder with streaks of tears down her face. Hermione watched them carefully, first he saying his peace, then she looking up at him hopeful and then finally she hugged him tightly and he kissing her hand saying good-bye. He turned on his heel and Hermione quickly sat back in her seat from spying on the two of them.

He took a deep breath, looking down at her as she sat with a satisfied grin, "Are you ready?"

"That was good of you. Believe me, your reputation will thank you." Hermione added, picking up her purse and standing up.

As the two walked out, she couldn't help but glance back at Giselle who sat in the corner of the pub. The two witches made eye contact and with an envious look, the redheaded lipped a "thank you" to Hermione gratefully. Again, if Hermione wasn't out with Sirius that night, he might still be with Giselle who knew none the wiser. Her conscience was clear and she left the pub towards Diagon Alley with Sirius protectively behind her.

Once out in the wizard public streets, Hermione reached out and grabbed him by the lapel of his blazer. He immediately stopped and spun around to face her; he felt permission to close the personal space between them.

"You're not mad at me, are you? I was just protecting your-" She started to talk, but he abruptly cut her off.

"No, I know what you were doing. It's all right." Sirius was moved by her kind female gesture. He could barely restrain a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not going to be here forever, so I didn't want you to look like-"

"Where are you going?" he immediately asked mockingly.

His piercing eyes gazed down at her with a hypnotic flair that made her just melt there in front of him. He had rested a hand on her upper arm, comforting her in his state of query. His touch was burning through her sweater and she felt compelled to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him what was going to happen and with favor he showed her, it was obvious that she was going to be more than just a memory.

She came here to do a good deed, to help him for Harry, Remus and the Order. She didn't come here to be a part of his love life and years from now, when all of this makes more sense to him, he's going to be so embarrassed. The older, more refined Sirius with his rough hands, tattooed fingers, defined laugh lines and threads of velvet will not be happy to know that he had tried to kiss his godson's best friend. That he had admired her rear more than one time and had flirted with her beyond what was deemed appropriate?

Or on Hermione's part where she found herself staring into his eyes as if he were a dark knight to come for her the way Lancelot came to Guinevere in the middle of the night. Where not only was she resting her hand against the chest of one of the wizarding world's best known convict that made her heart skip at strange moments of conversation, she too, was out of line to allow him to get as close to her as he had. It had not been a one way street when the sparks of attraction were beginning to erupt, for she found herself gazing upon him like all the other hopeless witches that watched him. Only, she was the lucky one that he took the time to talk to...and make dinner for...and take for a pint...and allow to ride his motorcycle. She was the lucky one...that was being pursued and for some unethical reason, she hadn't stopped him yet.

"Yes, love?" he repeated. His eyes glanced down at the way her hand had gone from gripping his lapel to resting casually on his chest, stroking her finger tips over his exposed skin from his top two buttons being undone. He knew she was thinking something, because he didn't bother to interrupt her as she watched his face carefully for three straight minutes and not made a single sound.

Like fire burning her hand, she snatched it back and held it in mid air, "I'm sorry! I just...let's go."

She turned away from him embarrassed and started to walk up the sidewalk, unknowing to where she was going. Ashamed that she had allowed her subconscious to act for her, she panicked momentarily over how he would read into it.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sirius ran ahead of her and turned to stop her from walking away from him. "Hermione, talk to me."

She still couldn't meet his eyes and folded her arms in front of her to close herself off. "I, ah, eventually will go back home. Back to America."

Sirius had put his hands on her shoulders to stop her from walking away from him, but dropped them at the sound of her departure. He'd just started to get to know her; he was finally making progress and at the least, would want her here to be his friend. She was so unique and different, girls like her were few and far between and normally, her types would never talk to someone of his type.

"We'll see," he whispered hoarse. Though laden with defeat, he still managed to hint a whisper of confidence in his answer.

Hermione could say nothing. She couldn't bare the thought of the damage she was creating.

"Besides, I know what you were doing back there with Giselle," Sirius added as he placed a hand on the small of her back, in order to steer her in the right direction and into the alleyway adjacent to the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

Hermione sighed as she walked. She looked up and saw Sirius looking at an old sign that was half hinged and falling from a deserted storefront. "What's that?"

"Women are dangerous creatures, I've learned. You were just letting Giselle know, that I was yours," he whispered as he took her hand and made her touch the broken sign with him.


	15. The Dance

_A note from Serade Black:As always, thank you for the reviews and making comments on what you do like (small details really help me flush it out more). For those that have told me they check back daily for updates - I sincerely apologize for your waiting. I know you understand that I cannot bang out a chapter in a few days time, only because I've redone it probably 4 times, before I send it off to my beta and then...redo it again! But, your patience is priceless to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But, fear not, this story is NOT going to be abandoned. I have it set in my mind to finish it by the summer (*snorts* I say that now). I realize the damage I am doing, but alas, it is a Sirius/Hermione fic. I hope you enjoy! Special greetings to those from Argentina and Poland! ~SB_

Chapter 15 - THE DANCE

The old hanging sign in Diagon Alley had been a portkey. Sirius and Hermione were transported behind a quaint little house with a picture perfect garden that should have been on the cover of a green magazine. Rows of exotic flowers created a path leading up towards a tattered old screen door on the two-story home with purple shutters.

The sound of nature was around them under the clear night with a billion stars overhead, not clouded by city lights of London's bustle. The nearest neighbors were miles away, making it obvious that the Tonks family preferred to live a bit in seclusion.

"I thought we were going to Apparate?" Hermione asked, pressing herself close to Sirius for the sake of balance. She was blinking away dust particles that had flown into her eyes.

He grinned slowly, the shadow of a mischievous boy lurking in his face, "I changed my mind. Wanted an excuse to hold your hand."

Feeling the top tips of her ears begin to burn, she slowly backed away to allow them some personal space. The air surrounding them was becoming a bit stuffy.

Without even knocking, the backdoor of the house flew open and an attractive auburn haired witch, late-twenties, came out with her arms open. She squealed like an eager older sister when she hugged and kissed his cheek affectionately. There was an obvious kinship there between the two, like they were the lone survivors of a family they'd forgotten.

"Another week, we're alive!" she joked pulling away. She glanced past Sirius's shoulder and set widened eyes on Hermione.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Hermione felt a moment of displacement, making all the pieces of why she wasn't supposed to be there click. Not entirely sure what to expect, she briefly considered taking her Time Turner out from under her shirt at that moment and run like a coward. But, what kind of questions would that raise? Could she have drawn any more attention to herself?

The pretty witch pushed her cousin out of the way without even a second thought (Sirius reacting quite dramatically) and came after Hermione with a twinkle in her eye that reminded her of her sister Bellatrix. Her face of surprise quickly turned into that of a pleasing smile and her arms were soon open to welcome her guest.

"Andromeda!" she said with a tight hug. Her smile was a wide bright blur in fuchsia lipstick. "I'm his cousin who was also blasted off the family tree."

"I haven't told her about that, yet," Sirius hummed from behind them.

"Oh, well, ice all broken!" Andromeda sung.

"Hermione, nice to meet you," the Time Turner user introduced herself.

Andromeda's happiness was infectious and Hermione couldn't help but feel immensely less nervous about embarking upon history just through the garden and into the old house. She was already being grabbed and dragged towards the house.

"I love her," Hermione whispered as she passed by Sirius and followed behind Andromeda up the stairs to the backdoor.

"Hermione, forgive me, we're not used to Sirius bringing anyone over," said Andromeda. "He's got a real problem with being social," she chuckled in jest.

"It's more of the commitment I'm afraid of," he whispered under his breath.

They walked in through the kitchen where delicious smells of turkey, potatoes, carrots and baking bread filled the room like a warm family reunion. Through an archway on the right, the dining room was set complete with a centerpiece of fake flowers. A large wedding portrait hung on the wall over the table, appearing to be from their normal straight wedding, no magic, for the portrait was still.

"What would you like to drink, my dear?" Andromeda asked sweetly with a glimmer in her eye with the potential of brewing up something decadent.

Hermione politely smiled and said, "Oh, anything is fine. Thank you."

Sirius led her into the open living room that had plenty of space for them to dance, where conversations went silent and twelve sets of eyes were on her. As if she had walked in naked, she froze in mid-step wishing desperately to look down at her clothing.

"Hey James!" Sirius's face lit up when he saw his best friend. He extended a hand that was pulled into a "man hug"; he greeted Peter and Remus the same way. "Peter, you're looking weary. Not getting enough sleep these days? You need to take a vacation, mate."

"Oh, right you are, Sirius! I should do that!" Peter said with a nervous hitch in his voice and a fake smile that was as rotten as aged squash.

"Everyone, some of you know her, but this is Hermione," Sirius quickly moved back to introduce his date, presenting her with a gentle hand at the small of her back. Next to him, Andromeda dangled a butterbeer for her cousin as she busied herself back at the kitchen bar. "Remus you know, Peter, James...his wife Lily. That's Nymphadora," he leaned closer to her ear as he pointed everyone out. "And that's Ted taking up most of the couch."

Hermione nervously bit her lip, feeling like she was peering into someone else's pensieve. Her eyes scanned all the youthful faces she'd known from photographs, but it was when her heart nearly dropped as her eyes halted over the baby carrier that sat on the floor by the couch where the redhead sat.

Once she gave everyone a friendly greeting, her eyes floated back towards the bundle of blue and green blankets that wrapped the Chosen One. Compelled to see him, Hermione slowly walked towards the young mother and small child that slept with no interruption. She saw the cotton wrappings rising and falling peacefully and then a small tuft of black hair peeking out.

Lily Potter looked up to Hermione with a proud half smile. Pleased to see the new guest showed an interest in her son, they exchanged a mutual respect and Lily obliged by carefully pulling down the blanket.

Glancing up once to Lily and then over to James, Hermione admired how sweet her infant friend looked sleeping while in his parents' care. Innocent, vulnerable and with a very bare forehead that showed no scar.

"That's Harry," Lily whispered as she tilted her head kindly, admiring her son.

Deep green eyes met Hermione's as she added, "You have a beautiful son. I'm sure he'll do great things."

Lily graciously smiled and watched her small child she would gladly die for, "He already has."

Like the small bottom of her cauldron had sprung a leak and was draining out the bottom, Hermione's insides began to feel empty and emotionless. Her heartstrings tug as she had to remain quiet and reserved while watching the tragic story unfold right before her eyes.

Just three feet away from the simple proud parents, their traitor stood quiet and feigning innocence as he eyeballed the dessert table. She had this overpowering urge to just tell Lily all the amazing things her son had done. All the battles he'd defeated, all the pain he'd gone through and how much he missed his parents with every breath he took.

But, she was to remain unmoved. All knowing and never telling. She was not allowed to change the course of history. Sirius was still going to Azkaban, Peter would run away to become the Weasley's rat, Remus would be alone and the handsome couple that smiled friendly to her were going to die at the end of the month.

"Hermione, an apple martini? They're good enough for no one here, but me. These Neanderthals prefer that vile butterbeer, but I prefer the finer taste in muggle vodka." Andromeda fluttered in with an odd shaped glass swirling with a mist Hermione was almost afraid to ask about, but took the glass and politely thanked her.

Sirius leaned in close to her ear, "She tends to get a bit wrecked as the night progresses. Just know your limit, or she'll keep offering them to you."

Hermione tilted her head into him, gazing up into his hypnotic eyes intimately. She slowly smiled, believing them to be developing a sincere kinship that Hermione found comforting in this situation. "Thanks for the tip."

Meeting her smile, he couldn't resist giving her a single wink as he turned to walk away.

"How's the book, Hermione?" Remus asked from sitting on the arm of the sofa as Nymphadora, a small pretty girl, colored next to him.

"Ah, it's-" she had taken the first sip of the apple martini that was handed to her. Like burning acid on the tongue, a fuzzy sensation filled her mouth and for a moment, she believed she had been poisoned. As she tried to hide her subtle gagging, she quickly glanced around to make sure her hostess didn't see the face she'd made.

"Drink it slow!" Lily and James both strained in a stage whisper from across the room.

Looking positively worrisome from the toxin she felt obliged to drink, she glanced around the living room to see if anyone else was sharing one as well. Lily then pointed to herself, shook her head and pointed to the sleeping baby. James proudly held up his butterbeer and gave a disapproving look that then cracked into a teasing smile.

Hermione sighed and just looked at her glass solemnly and utterly defeated.

Remus gave a light chuckle under his breath and pushed on about The White Line she was reading, "Have you started it?"

"Oh yes -" she began.

Next to them, Lily immediately stood from the couch, held her arm out like she'd applied brakes in a car, and said with a very assertive voice, "Sirius, if you wake him up, I'll blow up your motorcycle!"

Lily Potter had turned from sweet and caring to mother bear wary of her sleeping baby in a matter of three seconds. She was not afraid of Sirius with her son; it was just Harry being fussy for most of the day and had just finally gotten to sleep. For Sirius to wake him now, after all of her and James's hard efforts to make him pass out, she was talking about mechanical elimination.

"Come on Lily, I haven't seen him in almost a week. I bought the neatest thing for him in Hogsmeade, it's a miniature racing-"

"Dinner!" Andromeda's voice called throughout the house like a referee at a quidditch match. It was surprising that she didn't pull out the old fashioned iron dinner bell they used in westerns.

Sirius's playful offerings were cut short by his cousin's dramatic announcement, leaving him deflated like a balloon. He couldn't wait to see his godson zooming all over the Potter house; they had a great stairwell.

Everyone seemed to have their normal spot where they sat on Sunday evenings, so Hermione waited until she was shown where to go. Sirius had gone around the side where Lily and James were sitting, only to notice that the table seemed to be a bit longer than it was when Hermione first noticed it. Seating eight at the table looked a bit tight, but it must have been when she was looking in on Harry that the dining room table had been stretched and now four on one side, three on the other and the two hosts sitting on the ends made it quite roomy.

Sirius gave a flirty whistle to get Hermione's attention from counting the high-backed chairs and was already pulling out hers to take a seat. "Going to join us, love?"

Preparing to have dinner while living history, the young time traveler took a deep breath and put on her game face.

Once seated next to Sirius, Hermione folded her hands in her lap, practically squeezing her palms together out of nerves. She watched and waited until the side dishes were passed around as they were serving each other, "muggle style" rather than allowing the dishes to levitate from person to person.

Adding a helping of carrots to her blue and silver plate, Andromeda directed the conversation over to Hermione, "So, Hermione, where is it you're from?"

"Right now, I live in America."

"Oh, what part?" Ted asked as he cut into his turkey that was smothered in gravy.

Hermione looked down towards the end on her right, Sirius looking in her direction and giving her a friendly wink as he buttered his roll and offered her half. Taking it, she continued, "Boston. My father has a dental practice there."

"Been back much?"

"Ah, occasionally. Been away for quite a bit, this time."

"She's McGonagall's niece," Sirius said, dabbing his roll into his meat juice. He much preferred rare steak, but it was turkey night at the Tonks's.

"Really?"

"Get out!"

"You don't say, that's funny."

If Hermione could sink into the rug below her, she would have. Hearing Sirius spill her cover-up was almost as bad as announcing to the table that she wasn't from this time and half of them were going to die a terrible fate. But, as her ears burned and her face flushed, she quickly thought of an added story.

"Yes, but it's not something we talk about. She and my father had a bit of a falling out and, well, it's kind of a sore subject. She's just been so nice to allow me to stay in her house while she's away at school." Hermione did her best, talking it out slowly, as if trying to convince herself of the lie she was building up. She must remind herself to write all of these details down, so as to possibly debrief Professor McGonagall later.

"Still, that's something. She's a great woman," Lily added, dabbing her lips with a napkin before she spoke. Her eyes, so like Harry's. "She taught all of us, probably Dora and Harry in the future, I bet."

"She's like Dumbledore, a constant staple of Hogwarts. That is unless the bad ones get through," James added; bitterness dripped from his lips.

"Now, now, James, we must pace ourselves," Remus soothed.

"No, we don't pace, Remus. We act now, no time wasted. No more innocent blood shed," Sirius muttered on and tipped the last drips of butterbeer down his throat from the empty bottle. Another one already appeared in its place.

"What do you think the next plan of action will be, Sirius?" Peter piped from the other side of the table, next to Ted.

"That's to be discussed with the rest of the Order-"

Remus was quick to clear his throat as he interrupted Sirius and the beginnings of what sounded like a tangent. Hermione was still new to their circle of friends and it was going to take a lot longer to be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix than some smiles and friendly conversation.

After the topic of Dark Arts and Death Eaters were turned around into the latest mysterious phenomenon in the skies, it was discovered that Ted Tonks apparently was a "believer", and that ruptured into a good round of skepticism at its best.

The party retired back to the living room and Lily took baby Harry into one of the spare bedrooms to allow him to dream away than to listen to Billie Holiday. Remus and Peter settled in on the larger couch, where Sirius sat on the love seat and patted the spot next to him for Hermione to join him.

Hesitant at first, she folded the seat of her skirt down and sat next to him. Once situated, she felt him casually drape his arm behind the back of the couch around her neck. She crossed her legs, laid her hands on her knee and tried to remain as platonic to him as possible, while not secretly leaning as close to him that would deem inappropriate for a user of a Time Turner.

Lily returned and took her spot in the middle of the room, where James slinked up beside her, awaiting their instructions.

Andromeda practically floated in, her fingers wrapped around the stem of the martini glass she happily sipped from and began to explain the evening with a flourish. "Well Hermione, being our guest I'll just let you know that these Sundays have been a tradition for Sirius and I since we were kids. Incase he hasn't told you, our grandparents forced us to take dance lessons from a very young age. Since our family divorce, as you will, he's brought along his friends and it has more or less turned into a family evening with a few spirits. We hope to follow the tradition for when Harry and Dora get older and that their friends will join in as well."

"My son won't be a dancer," James sneered. "He won't like it, just like his old man."

"Well, his mother loves it!" Lily grabbed her husband's hand and assumed the position as Ted started the record player and James started to the left.

Sirius whispered into Hermione's ear, his fingers creeping around her shoulder, "Ted is a big Frank fan."

Hermione's eyes lit up when she heard the first familiar chords of "Strangers in the Night". A fine piece for such a night.

Lily kept her back straight, red hair behind her shoulders, and her chin lifted as if a string was attached to her head. She smiled lovingly to James, who would otherwise never admit he rather enjoyed Sunday nights.

Obviously in love, the two moved with a rhythmic romance that only death would interrupt. Their voices were friendly, their auras strong, their commitment was unbreakable and the two held onto each other like they were the lifeline to the future.

Hermione smiled at first, watching the loving couple having a good time, but her happiness started to fade for obvious reasons. Watching the two icons that Harry looked up to, never to know them, never to know that they danced on Sunday nights with Sirius's cousins, never to know that he was there, even if asleep.

Lily tilted her head towards the bedrooms and quietly excused herself to check on the baby. A mother's sense of hearing was exceptionally acute, especially when the Dark Lord was on the prowl.

"Next?" Andromeda asked, settling in next to her husband and looking around the room hopeful for the next couple that was going to start out with a waltz.

"Come on, young lady," Remus said, as he got up off the couch. He extended a hand to a blushing hiding-behind-Peter, Nymphadora, like he'd always been the one to dance with her.

They went to the center of the room, Remus standing at least three feet taller than Dora, and he politely rested a hand over her shoulder as he took her small hand in his. With small steps, Remus began a waltz with her that, due to her clumsiness, was continued only if she stood on the tops of his shoes. She smiled up to him, biting her lower lip and allowing her hair to bronze the color red. Her bright eyes blinked with a furious speed over her secret adoration.

Lily returned to the dance floor and was taken back into the arms of her husband, who was otherwise standing to the side and taking a sip of his butterbeer.

Without an invitation, Sirius reached for Hermione's hand that was folded delicately on her lap as if she were listening to a lecture. He pulled her up from her seat and made her join him out on the living room floor. He stepped before her, resting a hand on her hip and raised their joined hand together.

He leaned in past her face, so that his lips were just barely brushing up against her ear as he said, "I get tired dancing with Peter."

Her heart fluttered with their closeness and on the fourth count, he was slowly leading her around the room like Cinderella with her Prince. The music filled her ears, drowning out any further sounds and she focused all her energy on not stepping on his feet and allowing herself to get lost with his movement.

Their legs rubbed close together as they moved, each step in tune with the beat, Frank Sinatra giving them the tempo, and their bodies acting as one together. They danced to the music as if their entire meeting was to lead up to this moment.

He held her hand high and proud, while his chiseled chin was raised and his sultry eyes looked down at her. Having not stood this close to him for so long, she was able to notice every little crevice in his face. His sharp jaw had a thin layer of a short beard, giving him that shadowed appearance. His nose was perfectly cut and his eyebrows, except for the temporary scar, were angled in a sinister manner that was just the shape of his aristocratic pure blood pouring through. He was incredibly handsome, there was no missing that big factor, and each day that she spent with him was making it harder to turn away. Not even knowing that when she got back he still remained a good fifteen years old than she, thanks to the Veil freezing his age, that he was all throughout the same person she'd grown up with. Just that this time, in the younger shell, stood a free man who had not yet been tortured by Azkaban.

"I have a confession for you," Sirius began as he turned her around slowly in their dance. Their bodies still close.

"What's that?"

"I am absolutely smitten by your perfume," he grinned, creased lines formed on his cheeks.

"Thank you. You-" she caught herself. The perfume she wore had been a gift...for her birthday...from him. He had bought it for her, only to entice himself? "I, ah, got it as a gift...from a friend."

"Well, he or she has impeccable taste. It suits you perfectly. Alluring, yet innocent. Dangerous, yet cautious." Sirius went on expressing his feelings towards her aroma.

She shied away for a second, but his voice captured her again, "You know a lot about perfumes, sir."

An eyebrow of his perked and his lips sneered deliciously mischievous, "I know my scents on a woman."

Andromeda took pity on young chubby Peter, who was otherwise just watching the three couples with hopeful lonely eyes. She handed her drink to her husband and stood up to dance with the young follower whose eyes were as big as saucers with the invitation. Sometimes Lily would ask Peter, sometimes James for that matter, but it was only fair that everyone get to enjoy Sunday nights.

"Might I cut in?" Sirius asked as he twirled Hermione around and ended up next to Remus and Dora.

Remus and Sirius traded partners. Sirius, however, picked up the young girl and held her tall in his arms as she innocently straddled her older cousin, while Remus placed a gentle hand on Hermione's hip.

Smiling politely, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she and Remus actually shared a dance. It was probably as far back as Fleur and Bill's wedding, but even then it felt just as platonic and safe as he whirled her eloquently around the room like a proper teacher.

"Didn't really think I'd see you mixed up with his sort so much," Remus commented. He meant no ill to his friend; it was just that he was perplexed by the opposite attraction.

Hermione concentrated on her steps, only accidentally slipping and stepping on his foot one time, and was glad that his confident hold kept her in line. She felt secure while dancing with him and seeing a much younger fresh face with fewer scars. Scars she remembered tending to at times when she'd see him home at Grimmauld Place more battered than normal.

"He keeps finding me around town. I took pity, what am I supposed to do?" Her voice was jovial, elated with the moment.

"Yes, he's quite stubborn when he sees something he wants," Remus added. His eyes sparkled as he carried their steps around the room.

"Then, I'll be cautious."

"Right. You don't want to disrupt his normal pattern too much, do you?"

Hermione glanced up from watching her careful steps after his, momentary alerted by his last sentence. She tilted her head a moment, much like a kitten hearing a new sound and swallowed nervously like she was being studied.

"Sorry?"

"His pattern, his routine? Is that book getting to you, too much?" Remus asked, half joking as he referenced the Time Turner book again.

Her stiffness relaxed and she mentally returned to where she was, twirling around the living room with a twenty-one year old Remus Lupin. "Yes, I guess so."

"Interesting subject, time traveling. What you've learned so far, is it true bad things can happen to wizards if seen?"

"Yes, they can," she lied. No sense in debunking the Time Turner secret for future knowledge.

"I suppose they could. I mean, so much damage can be done, if one is not careful. Just walking down the street and being noticed, or talking to someone, or worse, making friends....all of that can just turn the world upside down."

"Yes, I suppose," she said passively. "But, the fail-safe plan suggests using the _Obliviate_ charm to jostle the memory."

Remus winced, as if not daring to speak the spell, "Yes, but there are so many repercussions for having that plan. I mean, what if you erase some very vital information that may hinder their entire personality. You wouldn't want to do that to a person, would you?"

Hermione stared up at him blankly, as if the thought hadn't crossed her mind. "Well, no I wouldn't _want _to do that to someone, but if there was no other alternative and your plan just, sort of backfired. I might consider using that as a resource."

"That's awfully dangerous, Hermione. If I had a choice, I'd either just try and stay silent and slip by unnoticed or....or..."

"Or what?" Hermione looked a little too eager when asking him.

At first he slowed his steps down, blinking a few more extra times as if deep in thought and then, as if he was hypnotized, "I would just accept whatever I've changed."

Hermione's eyes lowered and she glanced over his shoulder towards Sirius who was smiling to his young cousin, spinning her around and making her flowing long locks fly around them in a whirl.

"Life is precious and sometimes it needs to be endured. That's a consequence worth risking," Remus added, turning her around in the last beat.

"Switch!" Sirius yelled from amongst the dancers on the floor, suggesting to trade partners again.

Hermione fell into the arms of Harry's twin. Friendly arms enveloped her in the waltz that she nearly blushed when she looked into his eyes and saw that he was someone so much different. However, his hair stuck up in the front and it was generally messy, but it still looked quite neat. She was elated to tell Harry about this moment and tried to mentally photograph every little detail about his parents, down to the way his mother tossed her hair over her shoulder and his father's slight dimples could be seen when he laughed. Though he voiced his opinion on dancing, he had a uniquely gentlemanly way of holding a lady's hand.

"Your son is perfect, James," Hermione needed to get that out. Though she was treading on dangerous water, she wanted to make a dent in case he had anything to say about his son that she could pass on.

"Yes, he's going to be a good looking boy, at that."

"What do you want him to be when he grows up?"

He tilted his head and said, "Prime Minister, of course. Well, Minister of Magic, anyway."

"What if he were a professional quidditch player, instead?" Hermione charmed, testing the waters.

"Well, Lily might not agree, but personally," James's voice turned into a whisper, "I would secretly love it and I would get that tacky sweater that spelled out Quidditch Dad. But, don't tell Lily. She wants him to be something like a teacher. I even suggested he be an Auror, but she can't stand the idea of putting him out there in danger."

"He'll be okay," Hermione added.

"Switch!" Sirius's voice rang through the room like a mandrake being replanted. Mechanically, all the partners switched again.

Hermione ended up in the last place she wanted to be; her skin felt like it was rotting away already. Peter Pettigrew, standing quite a few inches shorter, held her close like a repulsive leech. His hand was improperly too low and his eyes almost couldn't focus on hers, but rather at the dip in her blouse that she wore. He tried to make small conversation with her and Hermione was polite, not letting on that standing so close to him made her stomach retch. She stared at him, as if trying to see a hint of a Dark Mark on his arm, or something that gave it away that he was passing information to Voldemort, but he was clean. Repulsive, but clean.

The last switch ended everyone with their original partners, where Sirius casually pulled Hermione closer than he did the first time. His intense gray eyes were on her, as if he pictured the two of them as the only ones in the room and as they slowly swayed to the music, his hand pulling hers in close between them, she felt like they were.

He was so slow and delicate with her, feeling her body move with his as if they were dancing on a cool cloud above the world. Her breath was paused, hesitant almost, when it was just she relaxing to the utmost level of peace she could ever feel. Like inhaling a drug that would make one almost hallucinogenic, she felt light as a feather.

Hermione felt her heart fluttering as he looked her over; it was enough to make her throat dry at the romantic thought and she was forced to swallow the knot forming. Exposing her nervousness only made him tighten his grip on her hand and press her closer against him by the hand on her lower back; he had closed the remaining space between them.

She felt his belt buckle pressing against her stomach and his denim legs touching her bare knees between their directions. The music slowly faded from her ears where all she could see was him, only feel the way his thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist and only hear the intimacy of their breath.

A familiarity settled briefly in her mind. A feeling of _deja vu _for them. Her thoughts traveled back to the night of her twenty-first birthday; a night of laughter, drinks, friends...and a dance in the moonlight in the back garden of Grimmauld Place. Not standing nearly as close as she presently was, for there was a line he could not pass back then...or in their future.

Could Sirius have been thinking back to this moment at Andromeda's? Was Hermione a memory in his head enough to remember dancing with her before, in the same manner? She recalled how surprised he was when she'd asked him to dance with her, because she didn't want to leave him alone in the garden. How his eyes looked so hopeful, so sincere and in the end, so thankful. She remembered what he wore, how he smelled, the way he looked at her and then that slightly awkward moment when they stepped away when Remus had come out to see them. Sirius was remembering.

As she drifted off, Hermione's eyes started to refocus back to the time she was spending with Sirius. Staring straight on the black onyx necklace that hung around his neck, she almost forgot that he really existed. Granted the man stood before her, his hand close on the small of her back, and his eyes scanning every bit of her face - he was quickly becoming an unbelievable dream.

Sirius carefully watched her face beginning to grow more and more content. Intrigued by her and pleased to see that she was enjoying herself, he was committing every freckle to memory. The way her eyes shied away whenever he'd look at her for too long, the way her lips moved when she spoke, how she used her eyebrows to express every emotion she was feeling. She calmed him. She simplified things.

Hermione looked up to see how close their faces were. She could just barely feel the thick texture of his jaw, could feel his breath on her face and for almost a full second, she hesitated whether or not to lean and take advantage of what was beginning to feel just so right. Like something magnetic was pulling them in, pressing them together, forcing them to fit themselves into a physical position that most puzzle pieces strive for...only for Hermione to pull away.

She thought about her birthday night. Though about how awkward it felt, like she didn't want to pull away, but she needed to. This was that moment. The way he smelled, the way he looked, what he wore and finally, the way he looked at her. His eyes honest and dangerous hopeful, there was no mistaking it. She had created a ripple in time. Sirius had remembered her.


	16. Breaking The Rules

_A note from Serade Black:__ Thank you so much for your lengthy reviews. They DO help. I've had a lot of questions asked about some of the outcome of the characters or situations. I will visit those in time. I know how the story will end and I have a working outline that I am following [to a degree]. I'm trying my damnedest to keep on with the correct continuity, but I'm not afraid to admit I might miss a few points along the way. It's fan fiction! LOL. _

**Ch. 16 - Breaking the Rules**

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked with a sense of urgency. His voice was almost breathy, like he'd run an emotional mile.

"Yes!" she replied instantly, desperately requiring a much needed mental break from their stimulation.

Their dance had been a mental exhaustion. Hermione's mind rounding on the final conclusion that she was a part of Sirius's past. Something she'd done or rather something she didn't do seemed to reverberate from this moment between them. The way he looked at her was in the fashion of a long lost love. The way he whispered to her in a husky fashion was something strained. And the way his hand held hers high and proud, was as if she were a regal princess that deserved to be worshiped.

He'd done this before or, from this time, he was _going _to do it. In the garden. On her twenty-first birthday.

Their intensity was quickly rising in their close steps to the music of Billie Holiday and her crooning calling voice of intimacy. The crackle of the record player trying desperately to accent the saxophone solo between her song. Alone in their world, the two dancers both decided they needed air and it was thankful that Sirius had suggested it.

Excusing themselves when the beginning trumpet of Louis Armstrong started to face in, they left the house the way they came in, through the backdoor and into the chilling damp night. They passed under a tall tree with a thick trunk where the young Dora had a swing hanging from one of the lower branches. Through the garden and beyond a small fence wrapping around the house as a short fortress, the two emptied out into ankle high grass of the vast open country. Illuminated only by the moon, the countryside was lush with dark trees and open fields.

Comfortable silence passed between them as they walked slow side by side, making small comments about the night sky being so clear, but in the distance a few rolling clouds started to slowly slink their way into their horizon. A cool breeze blew, making weak leaves shutter and break away to fall like slow snow flakes.

Straight ahead of them, Hermione inquired about the growing monstrosity ahead of them that looked like an overgrown corn field.

"Is that theirs?" Hermione asked as she carefully stepped. Dead leaves crunched under her shoes mixing into the grass.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to preoccupy himself from not reaching for her hand, he gave a slight chuckle as he dramatically looked around. "Do you see any neighbors close by, love?"

She ignored his sarcasm and slowly smiled as they walked closer. Her face began to illuminate as her eyes took in the lush bushes, finely cut for a purpose. She got close enough to touch the coarse leaves and saw that it wasn't a corn field, but lavish greenery consisting of several different types of tall exotic plants. At one time, it must have been a cornfield.

It stood about seven feet tall and appeared intimidating in the darkness. An opening along the side of it intrigued her as she glanced back at Sirius for an answer.

"Is it a maze?" Hermione asked enlightened as a small child. She remembered running through one with her father as a small girl.

"Yes, it is."

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath and looked into his gray orbs illuminated by the moonlight. He looked so handsome in the shadows. Something she'd noticed more and more these days.

"Ted has different, strange, but different hobbies. For the last few months, it's been this maze. He once built an entire barn of toothpicks, but unfortunately, a gust came through before Andromeda could put a sticking spell over it."

Listening to the sound of his voice was like hearing a peaceful stream when alone in the woods. It was comforting and her childlike eyes turned away to admire the unique natural fortress.

"It's incredible," she whispered in awe of it.

"I suppose," Sirius chuckled, shaking his head amused by her intrigue.

With a quick glance and a bite of her lip, she had game in her voice, "Want to race me through it?"

Hermione was already removing her shoes, dropping an inch and waiting hopeful for him to accept. Her smile was bright and ready, excited for the foolishness.

"Race you through?" he humored with a teasing grin. He watched her lay her shoes over by a different entrance, pulling her hair off her shoulders. "Like with a wager?"

"A wager?" she asked as she rested a hand on her hip. She was good at puzzles like this; she had a knack for using logic in these cases so the odds were on her side. "Depends."

Sirius was charmed by her eager playfulness and moved closer. His steps were slow, thoughtful, and cunning as if he were the lion to an unsuspecting lamb. "I won't race you without a wager."

The surrounding sounds of nature filled their ears as crickets sung and an owl hooted in the dark hours. Muffled laughter could be heard from the old farm house across the yard as the party carried on without them.

Hermione pursed her lips, chewing the insides nervously. The corners of her mouth tugged upward as she agreed to play his game, if that's what he wanted. The apple martini may have had a small part in her convincing.

"All right," she agreed, raising her chin definitely and trying not to allow his alluring cologne to overturn her. "If I win, then you let me drive your motorcycle."

Hermione was proud of her bet. Nothing could top touching his most treasured possession. If he was serious, then he would agree. As expected, he raised both his eyebrows and nodded, confirming that she had indeed thought of his weakness.

"Fine," he conceded and started to take a few steps away from her. They had passed another entrance when they walked. "I'm a gambler."

Hermione folded her arms in front of her, matching his mischievous grin. His retreating steps confirming his potential demise against her clever mind for she was confident she was going to get through the maze before he did. She had a keen sense of direction when using sound to decipher which way she'd already come. Upon using the stars and planets as earth's compass above her, she was good on guesses and held a strong will to succeed.

Sirius continued to walk back, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to watch for the second entrance. His thick locks swayed across his face like curtains in the wind as he moved to remove the jacket he wore.

"I'll match your wager love, but then you have to match mine," he said with a low flirtation.

Humoring him and rolling her eyes, she called out to him, "Fine, what is it?"

Sirius sensed a bit of arrogance bleeding through her clever exterior, so he bet his entire hand. "If I get out of the maze first," he began with a tinge of trickery in his voice. "Then you will let me kiss you."

She listened to his wager, but it took three full seconds to absorb before she woke up with a start, "Wait, what?"

"Ready, on three!" he prepared.

Silence filled her head and the air had completely left her lungs. Her skin immediately warmed to a high temperature that was incredibly unnatural on the cool evening and it was the heat from the guilty repercussions of said kiss if he were to win.

"One..."

_What if he did win?_

"Wait, Sirius, I don't think-"

"Two..." he was poised at the front entrance, hunched over like an Olympic runner.

Her heart started to pound furiously through her chest, like she were about to plunge down the tallest rollercoaster and was deathly afraid of heights. Realizing that she was having a mild panic attack, she gasped for air quietly like a mouse.

_They couldn't!_

"Two and half..." he saw her body beginning to shiver with the anticipation of her immediate defeat and his overwhelming wager. This motivated him.

Hermione's skin began to tingle unnaturally. She clutched her chest and felt for the Time Turner, believing that the sheer mention of uniting would cause the thing to explode right that minute, for fear of the timeline being utterly fucked.

"Two and three-quarters..." he showed no mercy as he flipped his hair out of his face, awaiting her surrender and his immediate win.

Kissing him would mean that they had officially crossed that line she had spent so much time drawing. Countless lies of Ron and her relationship to keep Sirius at bay and behaved. Now, the idea of them interacting at a much more social level dangled before her like a carrot being forced down her throat. Dancing was one thing, having dinner was a little too close, but feeling the grace and touch of his lips on hers was completely taboo, out of the question, and just plain wrong.

"Three!" he shouted and darted into the overgrown maze without a second thought on his mind if she'd followed.

His urgency into the brush was like a splash of water on her face and she chirped in frustration that he already had the advantage. She practically threw herself unprepared into the challenge, with a blank mind.

Panic started to spread like cancer through her body, that she hesitated on the first turn whether to go right or left. Each overgrown wall a dead end, the stars above her betraying her as if the heavens were aiding her in defeat. The semi-clear sky had now brought in the sneaking clouds, displaying their own lack of cooperation.

A quiet curse left her lips, not of her state of confusion, but at the flashing vision of her losing and watching Sirius's lips already coming in to claim his prize. She gave herself a mental shake, forcing her conscience to ground itself and push on and not betray her in the worst way.

She turned left in the small circular clearing, glancing up at the stars and making out where Orion's belt was positioned as she repeated an old incantation in her mind to stay on track. A sound was heard on the other side of the huge bush wall, but she was not to be distracted as she forced her instincts to overcome her. Through deciphering nature's puzzles with the way the wind moved, the clouds floated overhead and the moonlight illuminated a path, in between she had to stifle the image of Sirius smiling down at her as his hand cupped her cheek.

Sure the small little devil that sat on her shoulder was egging on the angel conscience that she needed to live a little, but she alone had to be the voice of reason and not allow him such liberties with her, due to the demise of their future relationship when she returned.

A quick right turn, landing right into an abrupt stop from a wall made her turn around and refocus on her target. She could practically feel Sirius's hot breath on her neck, his muscular forearms pulling her in close to his body - she hit another wall. Hermione turned around again, backtracking the way she came, with her plan of strategy flying out of her mind faster than a Snitch in the last moments of a quidditch match.

Finally, the loudest sounds from the house could be heard. A faded light shone through some branches ahead and she was nearing the end of her mission. Her pulse was thumping like huge drums in her ears and as she neared the exit, she prayed that she was through in time. She never wanted to see the ending to a challenge so badly than at that moment, for she knew the weight of the events depended on it.

Like nearing the end of a marathon, she threw herself out of the green monstrosity. With exhausted breath, her heart pounding and a light bead of sweat meeting her brow, she leaned against the wall of the tall shrubbery to settle herself.

"What took you so long?"

As if she'd heard the voice of a ghost around her, she jolted her body and looked towards the voice to see Sirius casually leaning against a tall oak tree that grew by the exit a few feet from her. He appeared relaxed and bored, as if he'd been waiting there for most of the duration. His coat was slung over his shoulder, held by his finger.

A flicker of victory passed over his eyes. A coy smile started to tug at his lips. "I was starting to get worried and was going to go in there to find you."

Hermione paled, shaking her head in complete disbelief, "How did you," she tried to catch her breath. "Get through so fast? That thing was huge!"

He took a full five seconds from his vantage point to admire her disheveled appearance. Her hair falling down from the barrettes she had pulled her sides into, framing her face like a classic portrait.

Finally, he pushed himself off the tree and started his swagger in her direction, eyes narrowing in on her like she were some kind of delicate dessert. "You never asked if I had done it before. I even had time to go around and get your shoes."

"But, that's not fair!" she begged, backing up into the wall of tall bushes. It was all too clear what he was coming in for.

He looked over her soft face that was alight with mistrust and suspicion, now an absolute beauty within his reach. "It's only unfair if I've lied," he started. "You never asked the question, love," he winked with a smirk. He swung his coat around and tossed it to the ground next to him as he walked closer, tossing her shoes next to it.

Hermione was downright exhausted and for once, it was she running a restless hand through her hair, imagining that she looked a fright. She was able to catch her breath, but her heart never ceased to pound nervously like she were about to fly off Big Ben with an unreliable broom. The personal space between them was getting smaller as he neared her.

His face was close to hers, his eyes closing for a moment to take in her frightened scent mixed of her alluring perfume, night air and nature. He sniffed quietly like a wolf about to devour his prey, savoring her potential taste.

"So, a deal's a deal?" he whispered heavy, waiting for permission.

Their space was limited, but she managed to turn her chin just slightly to pull away from him. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water whenever she'd glance up into his hungry eyes to say something. A deal was a deal and nothing she could do would stop him. He already had his heart set on his reward and even with her big worried eyes, it was not going to deter him from tasting the lips he'd watched endlessly.

He heard her quietly whimper her diffidence, but he was confident that after he kissed her, all would be soothed. At least, that's what he believed.

Feeling beaten and otherwise out of any more excuses thus far, her body language granted him permission and she stood still and patient, watching him move carefully. Her lips were buttoned closed and she sighed her defeat, "Fine, you win."

He moved his face closer. Blinking slowly and restraining himself just enough to not come across too animalistic, he was nearly at his prize.

Beautiful chocolate eyes plead against him, but he ignored her silent requests. She was practically counting the elongated seconds it took before she could feel his breath over her lips as he whispered, "I don't bite, love."

He touched her lips softly, like she was made of thin glass. His hand lifted to cup the side of her face to ease her nerves against him and within seconds, they were finally at peace and connected as one.

For four seconds, they were motionless against one another, only his fingers slid down around her neck. He was paralyzed against her, as if she were a goddess and he was nothing more than a pauper treading on unnatural territory. Soft velvet passed over her lips, leaving his kiss simple and sincere and restrained. Far from the kiss she expected, nothing could have made his touch more erotic than without any movement, she found herself willingly pressing up against him, encouraging him to move with her.

Frozen at first, he soon slid his lips over hers again, just barely teasing her to open her mouth. Old fashioned romance was what it was compared to, seductive enough with only the act itself. The animal inside of him was tethered and in awe of its owner, bewildered by his lack of lewdness.

Hermione felt herself smile into his kiss, pleased that he was taking it slow with her. No forcefulness came from his mouth, just the smooth sliding of lips upon lips in curious exploration. She felt a gentle tickle from his shadowed beard brush over her chin as he lapped at her lips deliciously. Her limbs went limp, drunk from his heavenly gesture upon her.

Believing that she had somehow fallen into a dream state and this was merely a memory from her teenage dreams of the same man, much older than he was now; she lifted a hand to rest against his chest, proving him real. A strong heart beat under her hand, as she splayed her palm over his taut muscles buttoned below. Her hand smoothed across his chest, over his shoulder to grip his bicep, squeezing it for sheer arousal. Lean toned arms flexed under her hold.

His gentle gesture of manners, and lack of tongue, created a sort of eroticism all of its own and for that was against all she believed she knew of the irresponsible and dangerous Sirius Black. Who of which his kiss was like an enchantment.

He pulled away from her slowly, too soon she thought, to asses her comfort level. He knew he had come onto her strong-willed and confident but, he did win the bet after all. He just wanted to see if she was feeling as equally elated as he, for his heart was throbbing furiously with delight.

Her eyes were beginning to open slowly, as if being roused from a dream, and she found herself blinking a few more times to wake. She peered up at him almost thunderstruck, as if being submerged in him had been enough to render her mindless and weak.

He was trying to read her, decipher her feelings, but all he got was sheer amazement. A reaction he was all too familiar with. But, at the same time, she was enough to render him just as perplexed.

His lips were practically tingling from their gentle caress, that she radiated mystery for him. Touching her was such a feat to accomplish; he never thought he'd reach it. But, Hermione deemed to be a challenge and by finally being able to kiss her, he wondered if she weren't a witch, but an angel. For, never in his chasing girl days had a kiss so innocent stunned him enough to take his own breath away.

Enough for him to appreciate it, he still wondered where this girl had been all his life and how long it was going to be before he sated himself with her taste again.

Momentary guilt passed over him, doubting his abilities, for he believed she may have been expecting something darker, something raunchier from him. Not a kiss that was light and patiently euphoric, rather than from an uninhibited animal that would devour her mouth with sheer self possession. And he wasn't going to lie and say that hadn't passed his mind when he knew he was going to win the bet, he just didn't find it necessary to establish himself in that way with her. However, his lack of a heated kiss for their first time to the state of oral fucking made him thoroughly question his own character.

Words finally surfaced in his mind that almost didn't sound like his own voice, "See, that wasn't...so bad."

She welcomed his intense stare. His entrancing eyes mesmerized her as if he was casting a spell between them and she slid a hand up around his neck. He, in turn, pulled her tighter against him, believing that he was being given permission to press on.

"No, but-"

His growing fascination with her couldn't be quenched and he sought her oral warmth again, with equal innocence. She willingly surrendered this time, falling against him like a limp doll.

Their lips slid over one another's with ease, moist with intrigue. He parted her lips with his own, teasing them with just the tip of his tongue, but not sneaking it in to raise the depth. His lack of tongue made her crave his seduction, making it all the more erotic by not getting what she wanted. Together they bled into one another, believing that their world was spinning around them, but melting into an emotion neither one could believe was happening.

He slid a hand behind her neck, laying his fingers around the base. His sense of control was beginning to take command, but he softened himself with another taste by finally slipping his tongue between her lips. He was testing his limits, anticipating a much darker good-night when at her doorstep in the later hours.

Hermione's fingers danced in his locks, feeling the silky strands wrap around her hands as her forearms rested around his shoulders. She pulled him closer resentfully, encouraging him to take his liberties and give her what she had dreamt about since she was a teenager - a deep romantic kiss from Sirius Black.

The tips of his black layers gently prickled around her face with angel soft wisps. Amorous lips caressed her as if she were a sweet strawberry not wanting to bite. Daring to explore his mouth, she finally felt compelled to throw the rules away and revel in the moment and lust that was seeping into her core like warm water in a bath. The man within her clutches no longer was her best friend's godfather, he was no longer twenty years older than she, for none of that mattered. Instead, she held closely a man she thought she knew, only to discover that she'd only scraped the surface all those years and had finally been able to chip away her new favored enigma in worn blue jeans, tight necklaces, silver rings on his thumbs and long silky black hair.

Finally, their gentle tease and their carnal want for one another was coming to an end, where slow lapping kisses were beginning to pull them apart and bring them back to solid ground. The sounds around them began to fill their ears once more, hearing the laughter from the house across the yard and signifying that their moment was coming to an unwanted end.

Like coming down from a euphoric illegal drug, Hermione sighed as they parted, knowing that she had tasted the true passionate elixir that stirred her cauldron. Her eyes opened slowly, waiting to see her dark wicked prince and not the confines of dark sheets from a dream.

Her lips remained parted, slow long breaths exposed her satisfaction. "Do all of your kisses feel like that?"

He could see himself in her dilated pupils that gazed up at him like he was an answer to all her desires. His hands moved back around her waist, giving her a flirting squeeze and said, "With you, they could."

She felt like she was underwater, for his voice was hypnotic and made her feel incredibly out of place. Like having her first kiss as a teenager and letting it whirl her world, she was silent and absolutely drawn into him. She knew he was fire to her, practically poison, turning all rules of her Time Turner upside down. But, on the other end of the spectrum, she was at peace for finally fulfilling a secret fantasy she'd had since puberty hit her and the name Mr. Black had left her lips.

"So, you have to introduce me to the lad that bought you that perfume," he sighed, content that he had her now.

"Why?" she asked timidly. The explanation that it was he who bought it, after Remus broke down and told her, was not vindicated

"So I can thank him for ultimately driving me mad every time you walk by."

"We should go back inside," she forced out, each syllable slowly leaving her lips as if she was contemplating the necessary diversion.

"Are you cold?" he whispered seductively.

"No," she confirmed. In fact, she was hotter than the warmest day in August standing there in front of him, his hands still somewhere on her body.

"Do you want my coat?" he said with intensity.

She slowly shook her head and absent-mindedly licked her lips, "No."

A swirling sensation filled Sirius, feeling compelled to touch the smooth skin of her cheek and cherish her like she was a gift sent to him. From the Heavens above, she was what he felt he needed through all his dark years. Though he wasn't looking for salvation, he had that with his small unrelated family, but she could remain a permanent fixture in his life that would argue with him until he was blue and make love to her on the floor of his kitchen. She could be that person for him. He just had a feeling.

Remembering that she was still barefoot, he glanced down and slowly knelt before her like the Prince before Cinderella. He lifted her shoe, one at a time, feeling her put pressure on his shoulder to steady her balance.

Once standing again, he felt the urge to kiss her one last time before going in, but it was too soon. The anticipation of the good-night was going to be his saving grace, already salivating at the mouth for her again. Instead, he reached for her hand and without a second thought, Hermione was the one to interlace their fingers.

They walked close together, sneaking side glances and giving small grins to their new development like two children playing a new game. Appearing secure and safe from the outside eye, it was Hermione who risked the most. Guilt weighing on her shoulders like another person, her consciences battling it out between themselves, wondering of what she had done hadn't already pulled a whole in the time line, thus rendering her existence nearly obsolete.

Hardly, for she was taking the initiative of breaking the rules, pushing the guilt a little to the back of mind, making herself feel more at ease...and enjoying herself.

They came back through the kitchen, hearing a faster tempo of music ringing through the house. Sounding like the tango, Sirius and Hermione watched as Andromeda and Ted stepped before them with desire and concentration over their faces. Utilizing every empty space in the living room, the couple was smashed together with their arms outstretched; Ted had a rose clenched in his teeth. Nymphadora cowered in the corner of the couch wishing it would absorb her as what her parents were doing mortified her.

"See, aren't you glad you didn't drink that apple martini?" Lily asked, stepping in close beside Hermione and Sirius.

Looking to her right, she smiled brightly as she noticed Lily holding a very alert young Harry who had obviously risen from his short evening nap. His hair was messy and it appeared that Lily had long since given up on trying to keep it down, thanks to his father's genes. The pretty auburn haired witch playfully bopped her son up and down in her arms to keep him entertained, but it was when he laid eyes on his godfather with he wild hair did he brighten again.

"You're not kidding," Hermione answered Lily and watching the way the intoxicated woman dipped and spun, ensuring a sprained ankle if she had tried it herself. "I don't think I can maneuver like that!"

Her heart lifted to see Harry so happy and then elated when he reached his tiny arms towards Sirius who was eager to accept him.

Sirius's smile was heartfelt and anyone could see that he deeply loved this child. Coddling him as if he were his own, Sirius happily shook his wild tendrils in the child's face, teasing him to grab a lock. Each time, Sirius would make murmuring sounds on his lips, erupting the baby into a fit of gleeful laughter, reaching desperately and playing the game.

"Who's a handsome boy? Who's a handsome boy?" Sirius cooed, paying no attention to the two witches watching him act ridiculous.

Lily rolled her eyes towards Hermione and whispered, "He does this all the time. Harry reaches for my hair and I'm not as forgiving as Sirius, here."

The small child's interest turned towards Hermione, looking up to her with severe intrigue. He smiled brightly and then covered his face with his small little hands, insisting on a peek-a-boo game.

"Oh, he's such a flirt," Lily said, patting her son's head. "He likes you, Hermione."

"He gets that from me," Sirius announced, winking to the witches. "He's going to be such a ladies man. I know it!" Sirius was so proud of the small child that looked back at him, eyes wide with wonder and life. Lily laid a drool towel over his shoulder to protect his clean shirt. "He's going to grow up, kick Voldemort's ass, become Prime Minister and have tons of girlfriends. Well, at least the tons of girlfriends part."

Hermione smiled solemnly, reveling in the hopes and dreams they had for the young child. Lily stood next to her and nodded, agreeing with Sirius on every word as she allowed his holder to dazzle the baby with a charming smile.

Remus stepped into the trio's conversation, not noticing Sirius lifting the baby up to grab a tuft of blonde hair that was soft and fluffy. Remus tugged back playfully, carefully detaching the small child's hand from his hair to grip his forefinger he held out as an even exchange.

"Oh, Remus, I wanted to ask you if you could come over tomorrow night to watch him. We've got to go and meet with Dumbledore regarding a matter. I'd ask Wormy, but Harry always throws fits when left with him." Lily's voice was sweet, but guilty when she mentioned Peter.

"Sorry Lily, but I know I'm at the bookstore tomorrow night-"

"I can watch him," Sirius piped up, bouncing Harry in his arms and loving the sound of his happy giggle.

"Really? Thank you, Sirius." Lily was relieved that she wasn't going to have to ask Peter to baby sit and smiled towards Hermione in a female understanding. Her kind eyes were honest, but she still felt a tinge of guilt in the end over her feelings towards Peter. After all, they were all best friends.

"Yes, perhaps my girl, here, will join me?" Sirius suggested as he glanced at Hermione with a sincere gentle smile. Little Harry settled down and rested his hand against Sirius's shoulder, his tiny hand wrapped in a fist full of Sirius's hair.

Hermione's eyes trailed from Harry to Sirius's who had a certain kind of benevolence about him when he cradled the baby. His soul was exposed and she could see the genuine love he had for that child. It pained her even more to know that so many years would be lost between them in the most desperate times.

"Wow, this evening is full of change in you, Sirius. He's never brought a girl to Sunday nights and he's never invited one to baby sit with him. Hermione, you must possess something over our Sirius, here." Lily's hand was gently patting her son's back as she rested in Sirius's arms.

"Maybe she does," Sirius's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, so as not to interrupt the slumbering baby.

The evening was coming to an end and their short walk together was ending on Marley, Hermione's street. Sirius led her to her front door, unlatching the short fence and allowing her to go through first. He then took out his wand and muttered an incantation that lifted the invisibility spell that was placed over his parked bike that was right in the front walk.

As if he had put the Invisibility cloak over it, gentle sheeting lifted off his most prized possession, making it shine in the moonlight. Its chrome so new looking, it had just been polished and cleaned.

He walked her up the top step, standing next to her as she was searching around in her satchel for her keys. Once found, she put them into the lock and turned the handle enough just to keep the door ajar. When all sounded peaceful inside the house, unlike before, she turned to face him. A sense of foreboding hovered over her, not wanting to actually say good night.

He gazed down at her, closing his distance between them and scanning his eyes over her every feature, watching the way she blinked, the way her lips moved nervously and how her chest rose and fell the closer he stood. He took a moment to admire her longer, before reaching up to tuck a strand behind her ear before the urge took him over again.

She hardly had a moment to protest when he could hold back no longer and whispered, "You can drive my motorcycle any day!" He ceased her lips in a hummingbird's second.

Without warning, at least that was it, he sought his lips with hers aggressively, enough for her to finally let her guard down and return the ferocious kiss. She felt her back pressing against the doorframe, while pulling him in tighter by the lapels of his jacket.

Her lips smashed against his, her tongue dancing within his mouth and she couldn't suppress the fire that was building up inside of her like a slow erupting volcano. She felt his hands moving around her body, smoothing out her different parts, but not daring to go past his limits.

He drank into her like he'd never tasted anything so sweet, so necessary and never with so much lust than for this girl that had made him wait. In his mind, he repeated her mantra of how she would never let him touch her, how she pushed him away and how strong he'd been not to ravish the young brunette until this minute.

In one bold move, their bodies pushed through the door, stepping over the threshold with unsteady feet. His grip on her body grew stronger, like an animal on the predator hunt, inhibiting her to make a rational decision otherwise.

Hearing the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway awoke Hermione from her oral stimulation with said hot legendary wizard, forcing her to realize the intensity of her situation. Panicking with the fact that she had her hands gripped on him tighter than a life preserver, she tore away from him like a teenager after curfew. Looking around as if worried someone might see them together inside the house, she shoved him back outside as he reached out like a plug needing a socket.

"No, no. You can't come in," she said between kisses. "It's not a good idea."

He barely gave her a chance to talk, when he'd captivate her again with a deeper kiss, rendering herself absolutely powerless against his magic. His subtle touches like bolts of electricity on her skin. She grabbed the lapels on his jacket again pulled him back through the doorway.

"Make your decision already, love," he said, suckling on the lower half of her earlobe and growling erotically into her ear. He nipped at her cheek lovingly, while instinctively pressing his groin against her body to generate further enticement.

"No, no. We can't. You have no idea how much we can't!" she said lustfully. Her hands reaching inside his jacket to feel his taut chest against the fabric of shirt. The devil conscience wanting him so bad, it was nearly sickening over what she worried she might do when she got home. _Jump his bones? _No!

"Your boyfriend will never know," he breathed, lapping at her lips possessively. He would give her the world if she would...just...let...him...inside. "I promise!"

In a moment of weakness and desperation, she lost her morals and quickly spat, "I don't have a boyfriend, we're finished!"

As if the atmosphere had just burst around them, Sirius pulled away from her with an instant rush. Leaving his heavenly place he'd waited so long to get to, she had now just turned into his shining beacon. No longer the guilt weighed on him that he was treading on another wizard's territory, trying to say his girl to otherwise choose him, she had confirmed that she was single, free and welcoming his advances. He would try his damnedest to make her his for she had the brains, the spirit, the fire and the body in one sexy little package. She would be his...just as soon as he could get her to push through the door and make it upstairs...or at least into the foyer.

Her reaction was different, for in a moment of desire, she bit her tongue harder than if she just showed him the Time Turner that nestled under her shirt. She saw the look in his eyes, the evil maniacal twinkle glistening and she knew that her fate was sealed; she was doomed. She could only imagine that he was already picturing the two of them wrapped up in one another wearing only the skin their maker put them in, crying out carnal requests of pleasure and names of the guilty parties. _Wait, was that in his mind or hers?_

Her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly, she could probably hang, but he was trying again to push through the door behind her, and this time she let him. It seemed right, it felt amazing, and he was determined to let this night go on.

His kisses got hotter, his love nips got harder, and his hands got freer. Smooth hands slid across the bare skin of her lower back, pulling up her shirt that had been tucked into her skirt. Firm strong hands gripped her waist, forcing her to feel the power she was wielding against him and the arousal she'd been held accountable for. His lips crept down her neck, marking his territory with a subtle sucking sensation.

Provoking a low satisfied sound from her, it was enough to wake her up, yet again, and pull away from him and push his hands off of her in a caring manner. She pressed him on backwards, trying desperately to get him back outside and mentally driving the idea out of her mind. Her willpower was quickly escaping as the other side of her was beginning to take over.

Her self-control was slipping and with a last defense, she gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss that she knew was going to be the last one. His hands were free, not touching her, for she slapped them away the first second he rested them on her body. Her lips were in control, her hands holding him as her prisoner and she stepped him back outside, to remain on the stoop.

His hand rose to rest on her waist, but she shook out of their kiss defiantly, "No, please don't. We can't. If I let you in, I won't let up."

"Good!" he growled and went in for another kiss she weakly welcomed.

She cut him off as the sound of his enticing growl and the last waft of his cologne tried to overpower her to allow him to do things to her body that were not yet written in the Kama sutra.

"No, stop...stop...stop, " she begged. Her last words were in a whisper, between kisses as if she were trying to pull herself out of the equation entirely, but he tasted just too good to stop.

Her last plea was sincere and with a few trailing kisses, he fought himself to slow down their erotic front door battle of lust. He could see the turmoil in her eyes over what they were trying to not do and it was a definite battle of her conscience. He, of course, had none and was more than willing to make her howl at the moon with him, but there was that bit of him that wanted so badly to do what she wanted. He had waited this long to just taste her, if it was worth it in the end, he would wait longer.

"Thank you," she whispered, resting her forehead against his while sneaking a few small kisses with him. "We can't...we just can't."

"Shouldn't or can't?"

"Both. We shouldn't even be doing this, because...because..." _Because no one would understand! You're almost twenty years older than I am, you're a generation ahead of me, you are like a father to Harry...you're absolutely gorgeous and I wish so many knew all what I was learning about you._ "...because I want to experience you so badly, I can't explain."

"Is there something you should tell me? I get this feeling that you're holding back." Sirius inquired sincerely.

Gazing up at him, shaking her head doubtful, she briefly considered telling him, but then violently shook her head. Her curly frazzled hair danced over her shoulders as she bit her lip and wrinkled her forehead with a stressed face.

"We're not related are we? I mean, it's just that I'm trying to break this chain-" he paused, slowly pulling his hands away as if questioning himself if it was worth it to consider incest.

She broke into a smile, staring ahead at his black onyx necklace that was corded around his neck. "No," she confirmed shaking her head, "we're not related. I'm muggleborn, remember?"

Hearing the great relief, he soon relaxed and replaced his hands around her waist the way they were, tugging her just as close. "Thank Merlin, where were we?"

"Sirius," she said bashfully. Remorse weighed heavy on her shoulders.

"It's because you're leaving, aren't you? What if I could get you to stay?" Sirius was moving in again, whispering his words into her ear like an enchantment. His hand cupped her face tenderly, his thumb gently grazing her cheek.

She swallowed, closing her eyes tight and gasped, "I could never stay, Sirius. I have to go home soon. You don't understand."

"Then make me," he whispered slowly, while leaving small butterfly kisses up the side of her temple.

Her fingers curled back around the lapels of his jacket, allowing herself to be seduced by the sound of his voice. He smelled so familiar, she knew him, and she was just amazed that this was the same person she'd known as a teenager.

Like a warming comfort, he sighed hypnotically around her, taking in the scent of her perfume, letting his fingers trail over her arms and slowly pulling her into a stronger embrace.

"You'll find out someday," she whispered quietly, allowing herself to be cradled against him.

She just wanted him to hold her. She needed his touch so badly, the reality of the truth was beginning to settle in and she felt like she was losing the time to tell him all the things that she came here for. Instead, she was wrapping herself up into him, as if he were a treasured artifact in history that needed this right now.

"Is it something I'm going to have to wait for?" he whispered, running his stubbled cheek around hers, gently caressing her.

Hermione gasped holding back the secret as if he were slowly extracting it through a vicious kind of torture, "Yes."

"Then if it's something to do with you, I am willing to wait."

Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, holding back tears and pushed herself out of his grasp. "Don't Sirius. Stop, please." He was getting too close.

Looking so forlorn, Sirius was clueless, but he felt like he was getting close to something. Possibly dangerous by her tone, and was intrigued by her mystery, regardless. But, the look of pain on her face was enough to make him stop, so he just took her hands in his and kissed the backs of her palms.

"Why are you being so wonderful?" she whispered as a last resort.

Sirius stilled, not understanding the magnitude of her last statement. Her look to him was more sincere than any woman had given to him and for the first time, he believed it to be from the heart. He wasn't putting on a show, he wasn't trying hard, he only knew that something in him wanted to know Hermione and she was still putting up a wall between them.

He held her hands in his and looked innocently into her eyes, "I'm just being myself."

Her shoulders shuddered and she immediately felt powerless against him. Quiet tears started to stream down her face and her lips were upturned into a sad frown as he released her hands. She was ashamed to reveal her vulnerability, but the weight of the situation was slowly beginning to break her down. Like a small creature in a world they did not belong, looking out to view things she was unable to control.

Sirius had pulled his motorcycle onto the road from being parked in her front garden. He settled on it the way he would before he took off, but paused to take in what had transpired in the evening. He was too thoughtful and ending an evening like this was not his normal routine. It left him feeling perplexed and unsatisfied...but content at the same time.

He glanced over to the shuttering girl that stood in the doorway, still looking at her hands and obviously going over their words spoken. Her brown hair fell before her shoulders, still windblown from the ride home. Once looking like an independent challenge for him now appeared to look like all the girls he'd known before that he'd left behind. But, Hermione was different. She had pushed him away, he hadn't left her and yet, he was humble to her request.

She raised her head to see him looking at her, as if he were trying to see something he'd not seen before, something to explain why she said what she had. Something to explain her resistance that was almost painful to express, but she was not exposed. Her innocence would be shielded for one more night.

Sirius had never been so thoughtful over a relationship before. In the past, it was always easy and never challenging. But, then again, no one had been quite like her. A level head, a conscientious heart, a pretty face and a brilliant mind that was worth the challenge. She was, he hated to admit, the most alluring bookworm he'd ever met. It almost made him step back and scold himself for not looking for Miss Right in the library at Hogwarts all those years at school; he might have been able to tap into an unexpected resource. But, that was neither here nor there, the time was now. On his bike, watching a girl he was riding away from sob small tears he knew were for him.

Revving up the engine, he couldn't take not seeing her run up to him before he drove away and he needed to leave. He needed to let her be, let himself be and end the evening the way she wanted. So, with a last wave, he kicked off the sidewalk and gained speed before gaining altitude to go home.

Hermione heard the lasting sounds of the heavy engine ricocheting off the houses, signifying his absolute departure. Leaving her alone to her thoughts, she went back inside the house and quietly closed the door as she started to sort out what was going to happen.


	17. Falling

_A note from Serade Black: Thank you for all my new reviewing readers. I am so grateful for the kind words of gush and encouragement. As we can see Sirius and Hermione are like the Hogwarts Express - a long steady track, slowly gaining speed. Enjoy ~ SB_

CHAPTER 17

Lying in an ocean of comforter and cotton bed sheets, Hermione tossed over on her back for the umpteenth time that evening. A dramatic, frustrated sigh and an arm draped over her forehead in hopes that she be released from the mind plaguing vision that replayed in her head like an old movie through a cinematograph.

The shadows from the outside light danced on the ceiling taking shape, each one reminding her of her previous evening. So many times she tried to close her eyes and allow herself to be taken by the sandman where all would be right and all wouldn't feel guilty, but every waking thought returned to _him_.

Dark smoky eyes, long slender fingers, strong forearms, rock hard thighs and the aura of a man that exuded confidence like he were made to rule the world. Sirius wielded a dark magic that Hermione was frightened to decipher, having known that his wizarding ways was not that from a wand, but that of charm. She was his target and he the arrow, for there was no mistaking he had made his mind up.

Hermione clenched her muscles between her legs, suppressing the urge to explore herself while the lingering smell of him still waft from her bare skin. She could almost see him smile and wink and then the sound of his seductive voice saying her real name into her ear like an old poem. She could still feel his energy around her, his scent haunting her having not showered before bed for that sole guilty reason. Expensive musky cologne enveloped her into a state of dreaming that did not allow her to slumber, but only drive her closer into his aura of seduction and want.

She shook her head, as if trying to shake the idea of him out of her head completely. She could not give in, he wasn't meant for her, and they weren't supposed to be following this path. They were fucking with destiny.

_Romance and the OBLIVIATE Spell_

_The OBLIVIATE spell is useful for a change in the timeline, if one believes they have disrupted it. Though one should never depend on it as a safety net, do try and always use responsibility when interacting with those out of your time. _

_Sometimes in certain cases, a Time Turner traveler may tread too far and romance begins to play a factor. NEVER stay in that time. You must always return to your own time, regardless of the situation (love, marriage, pregnancy, etc.) for you will alter the timeline in the future and you risk your existence all together. Please note that when romance begins to strengthen between two individuals, using the OBLIVIATE spell is much like using an eraser to the writings of a pencil. Though intended to erase the mind, romance of any kind will linger behind. The idea will be there, the attraction threatens to be there and once that line has been crossed, at any level, it is nearly irreversible. Granted, there are some cases where one might never remember a romance, but something deep within may strike them otherwise, leading them to feel guilty and confused over their unexpected feelings. There are also some cases where the spell hardly works and when the traveler returns to their time, a romance can be retrieved and salvaged. Of course, time will be spaced between them, so personalities may not be what they once were. To sum up, though it is not forbidden, it is NOT recommended to ever get romantically involved with anyone not in your time. The spell may not be the answer._

The White Line lay closed on the floor next to her bed, but her hastily jotted notes sat on her bedside table. They called to her like a homing beacon, wishing to be studied further, hoping to find a better answer other than the inevitable. There was a line she had intended to take heed to, but it was defiantly crossed like a child stealing the last cookie.

Hermione lifted both hands to her face, her palms clammy against her skin and she rubbed hard, like trying to get as much of him out of her mind as possible. But, it was too late. His scent had been left on her and he forced a flutter in her stomach she could not repress. Human nature was beginning to settle in and there was not too much she could do to stop it. It was free will. It was a ripple in time. It was her own fault to allow herself to give into the temptation.

The next morning, the afternoon birds tweet louder than they ever had before. Of course, it was because they'd been up for nearly five hours and Hermione had barely stirred since she finally allowed herself to fall asleep with the picture of Sirius riding his motorbike into the sky shirtless. Her mouth was dry the first few minutes she got up and she went downstairs to start a cup of tea and perhaps wake up. The delayed aftermath of the martini and Black-lust still on her lips.

The outside day seemed a bit overcast. A dull splash of stressed sunlight filled the quaint little kitchen, making the otherwise brighter decor look somewhat gloomy and shadowed. Still, fresh air was always invited and Hermione went to the side window that was above the kitchen sink to unlatch it. The smell of the neighbors rose garden snuck in, filling the room with a sensual relaxing scent with the expectations of a shiny pretty day.

She sunk into the chair at the small four top table and carefully wrapped her hands around the cup as if to warm them up. Though the fresh air was nice, a slight draft came in through the window, causing the stir of a chill to wrap around Hermione's bare legs. In the distance, she heard the dog barking and the neighbor outside doing some light yard work, but she never heard the thick flapping of owl wings when they gracefully soared through the open window.

Taken aback, Hermione double glanced to her left at the beautiful black owl with blue-black eyes perched on the back of the chair next to her. Its feathers looked like soft oiled silk, a healthy coat produced from many healthy meals. It made one small hoot and stuck its leg out as it presented a small scroll tied with a black ribbon. Almost hesitant to take anything from its leg, she admired how shiny his feathers looked, but was startled again when the bird hooted for the second time to move quicker to retrieve her note.

"All right, all right, sorry," she murmured. "Just admiring you. No need to get impatient."

There was no doubt who the note was from. The black ribbon and gorgeous healthy young owl gave it away.

After untying the perfect bow in black chording, Hermione started to unroll the scroll to read the note. Before she got past the first line, the owl hooted again, demanding that it be given a treat. Hermione jolted at the sound of the deep hoot and quickly looked around the kitchen for a jar of treats or something to take its place. On top of the fridge, she was saved from being devoured and promptly reached for the box and offered the owl at least three before he took his leave out the window.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I cannot begin to tell you what I am thinking right now, so I will not bore you with my mind ramblings. I can still smell you on my skin and let it be known that I would never wash again if I believed you wouldn't see me. I have to remind you that your night is already spoken for by myself and another. Tonight, we two men will do everything we can to woo you into our clutches, thus you being forced to choose who the better man shall be. I will not lie that the other guy is far cuter than I am, but then again, I don't dribble my dinner down my front._

_See you at six,_

_Sirius_

For almost a solid minute, Hermione just slowly slid back into her chair and stared at his writing. She'd seen it before, on Order documents, but never in a letter written to just her. His hand was so elegant, only slightly more slanted and a little less pretty. The handwriting from the younger Sirius still had an air of freedom and thought with a clear head and not from an incessant drinker with a weight of stress on his shoulders. It was evident that he managed to put more effort in his hand in this period in his life, than as he got older and more troublesome in his seclusion.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione was carefully walking down the stairs as she pulled her arm through her denim jacket. Wearing flared jeans and a floral hippie shirt, she was quite proud to have coordinated a few pieces from her own closet that would be comparable to what her own mother might have worn in this time period.

She took another glance at the mirror by the front door and couldn't help but do one more final once-over of herself. Not that she had any reason to impress, after all she wasn't there for anything more, but as she opened the front door to lay her eyes on a vision that was near perfection, she was glad she wore the slightly low-cut top.

Sirius had his motorbike parked on the sidewalk and he leaned against the side of it. He relaxed against the magic standing motorbike wearing worn blue jeans with a hole in the knee, boots and a black t-shirt with a vintage picture of David Bowie as the Thin White Duke circa 1978. His hair was silky and wild around his head with half of it restrained in a ponytail and wore Aviator sunglasses that reflected the sun off of them as if he were completely untouchable. He had four thin leather bracelets on his wrist and one ring on his left thumb, but two rings on his right where his tattoos would be otherwise.

As she walked closer, after latching the short white fence behind her, she gave him a shy half-grin that he met with a full smile. She played coy when he removed his sunglasses to better view her, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. Like a small caged bird, her heart was fluttering about uncontrollably. First about seeing him, second about going to be with little Harry and last, riding that thing again while pressed tightly against him.

"I like your retro t-shirt," Hermione said with her observation in order to break the silence.

"Retro? It was only two years ago, love," he corrected with a smirk, glancing down at his t-shirt to see if he saw the same as she.

_Damn! It's 1981....the shirt clearly says 1979._ "Well, it does feel like ages ago. Quite a bit has happened since 1979."

Sirius sensed her nervousness. He only assumed it was because of their transition last night from just friends, but he felt no need to tip-toe around their obvious chemistry. He pushed off the motorbike and closed the space between them together there on the sidewalk.

Her lips parted as her eyes finally met his, averting them until the moment he rested a hand under her chin. The second his fingers grazed over her skin, his calming seduction was enough to just rehash every self-doubting emotion she had gone through the night before and she just felt like she was falling right into him.

One more step and his belt buckle was pressing against her stomach, his smell was filling her senses and she could no longer hear that faint voice of reason whispering to her that what she was doing was so very wrong. But, it felt so good to be bad.

His kiss to her was sweet, sincere, and genuine, but it was the way he kissed the side of her lip before pulling away that made her legs just shiver. He grazed her cheek with the tip of his nose as he took in her scent, keeping his eyes closed like he were savoring a rich wine. He kissed her temple lightly and then nuzzled his mouth around her earlobe.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you last night," he whispered husky. His free hand dropped to her waist where he lightly squeezed.

Sighing, she gave into her guilty desire and admitted her weakness, "I won't lie...I couldn't either."

This pleased him and his thin lips curved into an approving grin. Low lidded eyes gazed down at her, relishing in her scent that attracted him like an animal to fresh kill. He admired her soft skin, her sweet face and her insatiable innocence that he knew was fragile; he wanted to be good to her.

She knew deep down that she was saying too much, but it was the small something that wanted to let loose, even if just for a little, and enjoy him. Even if it meant going back to awkward moments at Grimmauld Place.

"That's good to hear. Because, I truly hated spending most of the afternoon with Worm-, I mean Peter over at his mother's as we tackled garden gnomes." The tips of his fingers touched her face as his eyes rolled over her to burn every feature into his memory. "I found the chore tiresome and agonizing, because you kept breezing through my mind."

_Don't fall, Hermione! Don't fall!_

"And now, here I finally stand with my mystery girl," he finished, kissing the tip of her nose.

They rode through the clear evening skies while Hermione held desperately tight to him. He was careful to not do any fancy moves to impress her, for the first ten minutes that he was in the air she never opened her eyes out of fear of the height. Though it served as a normal route to James and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow, it seemed to be a bit taxing for his female companion.

Just about five miles outside of the small village that was home to the Potters, Sirius touched down his front tire on the highway behind a tall rounded hill, unnoticed by muggle viewers due to the stealth charm over his motorbike.

As Sirius rounded his last right turn, they came about a picturesque little village with a welcoming sign saying, Godric's Hollow. Quaint little shops lined the street with a few lazy shoppers still out strolling the streets on that cool night. A stray sneaking cat or two walked slowly up the alleys, looking for lost mice or a left over chicken bone. For a split second, Hermione caught Sirius take a double glance at the tempting felines.

White picket fences ran along the sidewalk guarding a house or two as they started to ride in towards the more suburban area. Snapped from the history books, the house on the end was near perfect with its blending natural colors, perfectly trimmed, yet private, trees and bushes. A good sized two-story home with big windows and a small overhang on the front door made the house look well inviting as they pulled into its drive.

Sirius seemed to have a normal spot where he parked his bike; in front of the car park but clear of the station wagon that sat in the drive. On the walls of the hidden metal overhang, lawn maintenance items hung in order, two bicycles leaned on their sides, and over a short hedge under a window, enchanted pruning sheers worked away dismissing dead leaves.

Sirius removed the keys from his motorbike and slid off as if dismounting a noble steed. With his free hand, he assisted Hermione before fetching her satchel out of the saddle bag. He gave her a quick wink and then turned to walk up the cobblestone path leading to the back door.

"This is a beautiful house," Hermione mused as she looked above her to the second story with plants sitting on the small terrace that was probably from the master bedroom.

Sirius groaned, "It's too straight for me. Comes from _her muggle side." Hermione was quick to glance at Sirius in an almost challenging manner to his "muggle" remark, but he redeemed himself almost immediately with a chaste kiss. "That's what I like about it."_

_Hermione's cheeks burned with his free gestures. Walking the tightrope of taboo felt good and she felt the heavy filling feeling settle in the pit of her stomach._

_As if he was a housemate, Sirius let themselves in the house through the back kitchen door. He whistled loud to alert the household that they were in there, obviously customary for his frequent arrival._

_Sirius went to the refrigerator and took out two bottled beers, offering one to Hermione. She shook her head to decline and he put one bottle back inside. Like a pro, Sirius lined up the edge of the metal cap with the kitchen counter and with a pound of his fist the cap came flying off, exhausting a refreshing "pop"._

_Hermione took in the sight of the kitchen, resembling a lot like her parents own house. Only, they didn't have an enchanted scrubber finishing the dishes for them, or a self-folding basket of laundry that was busy away with invisible hands defining creases in pleated pants._

_She looked about the retro room with eyes as big as saucers, taking in the dated appliances that weren't magical. Once her eyes looked back ahead of her, she realized Sirius had walked ahead of her into the living room._

_He strut into the center of the room, obviously displaying a strong bit of confidence that alluded to this being his second home. He looked around to if anything had changed in the few days since he'd been there, but his eyes settled on the muggle television. _

_Hermione walked up beside, he giving her a side glance and a wink, when they heard the mild voices of James and Lily from upstairs. They quietly crept down the carpeted stairs that emptied out into the living room, politely waving to say hello as they were seen._

_"Hello Hermione! Sirius, we just put him down, so he's probably good for the night. If not, there are two bottles in the fridge." Lily was very clear on her instructions, but casual at the same time as if she'd told him the same thing before. For the moment she looked up from explaining, Sirius had taken to glance over at Hermione, paying little attention to Lily's words. She raised a hand in front of him, as if to try and distract him, "Perhaps, I should be telling Hermione this?"_

_Sirius jolted his head a little, running a hand through his hair and play it off like he'd not been otherwise entranced, "Sorry Lils, what did you say?"_

_Mocking him with a sweet scoff she shook her head and winked over at Hermione, who was otherwise just taking in the entire house like a history museum. She was admiring how rich it appeared, but didn't realize how chilling it was to be standing in it at the same time. In a month the house would have a very terrorizing intruder, be nothing but a crumpled heap and an orphan left behind in it. _

_"Hey mate," James said patting Sirius on the shoulder as he walked by. "Hermione, good to see you again."_

_"Hello, James," she was careful to say. For a split second, even though he was currently her own age, she had to just stop herself from calling him a mister._

_"Right, well we're off. Taking the car." James added as he tossed his keys in his pocket that sat on the counter. He gave his hair a good pat, just to try and keep it from standing up._

_"You're fighting a losing battle, honey," Lily said as she buttoned up her coat. She was wearing a knees length floral dress and the coat just barely reached her at mid thigh. Her soft auburn hair framed her pretty face so elegantly; it was truly a shame that Harry wouldn't be able to experience her for his entire life. _

_"Should be back before midnight. Lily made some Shepherd's Pie, if you two are hungry. So, other than that," James glanced at Sirius and threw him a nod, "be safe with whatever you do!"_

_Lily was swift to slap James on the arm, quietly scolding him for such a crude comment to the two of them. She reached for her husband's hand and gave a tug for them to leave, hoping to end the innuendos. As they made it to the door, she called back," Hermione, if he gets too fresh, just lock yourself up in our bedroom. That old dog can't figure out how to get in!"_

_Hermione's cheeks reddened with the very thought between she and Sirius, but she gave a friendly wave and thanked her anyway. _

_Once the two of them were alone, he tried to offer Hermione something to drink before he invited her to join him on the sofa to watch the television. He took her coat from her, laying it over the back of the recliner and laid his own on top of it. He wasted no time in removing his boots, trying to get as comfortable as he could for the night ahead of them and insisted that she do the same._

_What resulted after about a half hour was Sirius's second beer, his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him, watching a muggle television show. Hermione was just as relaxed, her legs were curled under her and leaned against him with her hands wrapped around his arm. Her eyes closed as she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling warm and secure in such a sacred place. _

_The volume was decreasing in her ears and she opened her eyes to see Sirius extending his wand towards the television. When she glanced up at him he said, "Just turning it down for the sake of Harry. And apparently, for you too."_

_She grinned a little embarrassed and sat back up, sliding her feet out from under and onto the floor. "Sorry, just closing my eyes for a few minutes."_

_"That's quite all right. I like you pressed up against me." His eyes watched her every movement with a hint of a smirk. His eye brows rose, baiting her conversation._

_Glancing away for a second, she almost forgot herself as she fluttered her eye lashing unconsciously. She imagined him older, wiser and the two of them sitting together in Grimmauld Place. She could almost hear the hint of flirtation in his voice, something that seemed oddly familiar from her past and his future._

_"Sirius, you're bleeding," she quickly informed. The small gash through his eyebrow had broken open through the thin layer of protective skin. "I'm going to go find something to fix you up. Stay here and don't move."_

_It concerned Hermione enough to get up from the comforts of the couch to seek out something in the kitchen to better tend to it. With luck, and the kitchen of a new mother, she had some very gentle muggle products on hand that she was familiar with. A cotton ball from the bathroom and some Neosporin would do him fine, if he wouldn't allow her to concoct a paste-like potion for him. She returned to sit next to him on the couch, facing him, to care for him._

_"I'm really fine. It just adds character," he insisted, slouching his shoulders and allowing her to do what she wished._

_"Well, whatever, I'm just trying to help you keep it cared for. It's not a simple little scratch, Sirius. It at least needs one stitch by the looks of it." Hermione was careful not to mention anything about where he was the night before, knowing perfectly well that his cut probably came from Remus._

_"I'm not going to hospital for one measly little stitch. They'll laugh at me, give me a lolly and tell me to buck up. It would deeply damage my fragile ego," he pled._

_In mid dab of applying the medicine to his brow, Hermione dropped her arms and let out a gentle laugh that distracted her enough to lose her focus. _

_"I hardly think that anything would damage your -"_

_He had waited for the right time. He believed he still had to find the right moments for him to take what he so desired; pleased she was distracted so that he could taste her soft lips again. Their moments weren't the best for him to rely on, for fear she would turn away or believe that what they were doing was wrong in some way, so he never gave her a chance to think twice. _

_Like an owl swooping in for its prey, he claimed her lips quickly. Her hands were still holding the cotton ball and medicine, but she was otherwise now preoccupied with letting him kiss her in the fashion of his choosing while he rested one hand on her knee and the other under her cheek. _

_Her world just seemed to still when the arousing rush of him filled her like a warm spring through her body, reaching out to every limb and to each finger tip. Her ears were beginning to burn and her temples started to throb in an alluring fashion. She felt his soft fingers dancing around her neck, tracing over her skin as if she was a tender porcelain doll. _

_His body slid closer to hers, and like talking down a suicide jumper, he blindly removed things from her hands to free her from anything that was no longer necessary. He seemed to know that by now, he had to take his time with her. He felt like he still needed to treat her like a timid animal, quiet, innocent and somewhat afraid. He kissed her with a simplicity that did not need to be clouded. Honest and true, she was beginning to assist him in creating a new being to reside within him. Something he warmly welcomed on his journey through life._

_She breathed into their kiss, mentally whispering for the desire not to drown. He smelled so good, felt so right and made the surface of her skin feel renewed. Like unveiling the fountain of youth, or in this case, fountain of lust, the way he brushed his tongue lightly into her mouth gave her a sense of freedom to explore. A man she knew, but then again didn't, slowly moved his hand up her leg, settling on her waist and squeezing lightly for sake of exhilaration._

_A new energy passed between them, first through their lips, then opening to their mouths, to the light touches from fingertips. Her empty hands met him, placing them first against his taut chest and then sliding around his neck where her hands were met with silky locks of hair restrained in a ponytail._

_"You're so stubborn," she said into the kiss. _

_At first her words encouraged him to press on and against her, urging her to slowly lower herself so that she was flat against the couch. _

_Crawling over her like an animal, he answered, "I won't argue with you on that."_

_Barely a second passed between them to speak, as he moved over her carefully, balancing himself so as not to put all of his weight on her. Moving forward, pressing on, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, squeezing her waist and orally dancing with her in a certain enchanting waltz of the tongue. _

_Her will was quickly slipping. She wanted to be taken. She wanted to feel his weight against her and kiss him the way he was demanding, the way he desired as she quickly banked the memory of their lips sliding over one another's. A guilty pleasure indeed, but worth it by the euphoric feeling that elated her._

_Hands settled on various parts, kissing longer and deeper. She no longer had the right mindset and instead wanted to nearly devour the delicious man that nearly worshiped her every feature. He kissed her cheek, her nose, her chin and even her temples with a slow taste as if to quietly thank her for just existing in his world. She, on the other hand, was just too grateful to be there. He made her feel more alive and desired in a PG-13 kiss than the two lovers she'd ever shared an orgasm with. He stood out in her mind as, already, being the most powerful wizard she'd ever met, for he was able to make her feel beautiful by a kiss on her temple. No other wizard had been able to achieve that and no spell book anywhere could teach it._

_Easing into a more comfortable state, he settled between her legs with his belt buckle pressing into her stomach. His hand stroked up and down her outer thigh, squeezing her waist and then hugging her closer to him while he rested against her. _

_She emitted small satisfying sounds, encouraging him to press on. Like a well skilled hunter, however, he paced himself. The kisses were slowing and seconds between them paused as their eyes slowly opened to see one another and their state. Hermione was left in an almost hypnotic trance and Sirius was, well, getting just what he wanted._

_"I'm afraid that I might make you a bad girl," he said hoarsely._

_She no longer felt as nervous as she did ad a little flutter of confidence made her ask, "How do you know I'm not already?"_

_He slowly grinned, pleased she was playing his game, "Because, I can read you. I'm not anything you've ever experienced before."_

_"Nor am I," she balanced._

_The urge took him over again and he drank into her lips with such severe greed and passion, she almost thought that he was feeding off of her. _

_Though his hands were mildly well behaved, his imagination was not. Never taking so long with a witch was starting to grind on him, but the idea of touching such a sacred being scared the living shit out of him. She was something to be cherished, adored and savored, not to be ridden rough and fucked into the early hours. A gentle creature, far beyond his years, and yet she played to be the same age as he._

_"Would you believe me, if I told you I just wanted you for your mind?" Sirius grinned into the latest kiss._

_Returning the smile against warm moist lips, she replied, "I would."_


	18. Good and Bad Timing

_A note from Serade Black:__ Just wanted to throw it out there for anyone that finds this story difficult to read and would like to complain about it - don't read it. Simple as that. For those that are enjoying the story - thanks for sticking by it. I write the story for myself and for those that are willing to read it. So, if you don't "like" how I've written it or choose to critique every little grammatical error - do yourself a favor and stop reading fan fiction and go to Barnes and Noble, right now. As for my untimely updates, I do apologize. I cannot thank you enough for checking back to see if this has been updated, because I know a lot of time does pass between chapters. For your patience, I thank you. I write, re-write, send off to beta and then re-write again and that is why it takes so long. Oh yes, and that real life thing. _

_Last thing - grey or gray. They're both to me. LOL!_

Ch. 18

The sound of sliding fabric slithered over one another like the gentle current of a river. Experimenting together, the cotton folds of their clothing crept between each other like dueling enemies in a thread farm. Locks of hair blended softly together like ribbons in the wind as denim clad legs slid together restlessly.

Sirius was good at what he was doing. While keeping his weight on top of her in order to confine her to the couch beneath him, he was careful not to crush her. Though he moved meticulously over her, his gestures were not forceful, but fluid and he kept an open ear should she whisper any refusal should he roam beyond his boundaries.

But, Hermione was slowly retreating in her mind to a place that felt right. No rule books, no pressure, just the sheer sanctity of innocent intimacy that a new couple might revel in. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as her fingers ran freely through silky black locks, curling the ends around her fingertips. She breathed in slowly, taking in the essence of history that held her as close as any woman could be held to a man that wasn't already partaking in a naked act.

She freed a leg and raised it up alongside of him, unconsciously wrapping it around his waist tightly. A hand broke free and it ran down his back, lightly scraping her nails up against his shirt, pulling the fabric taut against her hand. She drank into him as she felt the way his natural thrust was beginning to press against her, enough for her to find her center and settle down before she heated up beyond her control. Breaking the rules was fun, but she was truly playing Russian roulette with him at this moment.

However, Sirius loved the freedom she was taking with him. Her gentle caressing made him feel appreciated, even with the smallest thing. Far from lust-filled stroking that his normal dates initiated, it was a soothing change with the way the winds were turning in his favor. He kissed her honestly and without a false heart, that as he pulled away to momentarily gaze down at her to reflect, he realized that his wanting her for her mind could not be any closer to the truth. The fact that she had a smokin' little figure in jeans and cardigans meant minimal, but it was still favored.

From upstairs, Sirius's attention was momentarily distracted as he tilted his ear to listen to the faint sounds of a baby whimper. He recognized the stirring, then a whimper again, and a mild little cry.

"I've finally got you where I want you," he whispered hoarse against a kiss. "But you'll have to excuse me. My boy is calling." As he lifted himself up from her, he left a chaste kiss to seal the deal.

As he left her, Sirius's entire demeanor had changed once the sound of Harry was audible. The light spring in his step confirmed his knowledge of the obligation he had to the small child and as he adjusted his hair back into a stronger ponytail, he was about to make sure that Harry had his undivided attention.

A destiny Sirius would spend a lifetime hoping to pursue.

Hermione slowly sat up, adjusting her shirt and listened to Sirius bound up the stairs, hurdling over them quickly. She heard him settling into a room directly over her. She could only guess that it was the nursery that Lily would soon see her demise in.

Through the walls and flooring, she tilted her head to almost hear Sirius speaking to Harry, as if the young child was able to carry on a conversation. Smiling to herself, this intrigued her, but mostly it warmed her insides to listen to his voice in a lighter, friendlier manner to Harry. As if he were already grown, Sirius was carrying on discussing magic and witches in his future.

Sheer curiosity got the best of her, the tugging of history's heartstrings pulling hard against her will, but failing miserably. She climbed the stairs to the second floor; Sirius's voice was getting louder as he carried on about a new magic wax he had discovered for the silver chrome on his motorcycle. The harbored a secret glee in anticipation of seeing him holding baby Harry in youthful arms again.

She walked into a pleasant picture of baby blue hues and yellows splashing around the walls of the nursery. A freshly painted bureau sat to the side with yellow painted ducks along the drawers. Various baby books, small toys and medical instruments for baby care sat on top. Harry's crib looked antique, like it could have been James's from his childhood that his parents may have saved for him. Above it a levitating mobile of different stars and planets orbited above the crib for endless slumbering entertainment. On the wall next to the crib was a pretty framed portrait of James and Lily from their wedding; a smiling Sirius could be seen in the background as he proudly watched on.

In the corner, Harry was splayed out on a changing table. Handling him as if he were his own son, Sirius saw no shame in changing the young infant. He heard her come in and glanced over his shoulder before giving an approving whistle.

"Careful you don't peek over here, love. This here is man's land. Give the man a little dignity and wait till he hits puberty before you judge his character," he warned.

A rose hue filled Hermione's cheeks over the thought of seeing Harry, even as a baby, naked below the waist and helpless. Though not too upset, the young Harry played happily with a nearby stuffed animal that Sirius must have charmed to fly over his head with big Dumbo ears in order to preoccupy him.

"There you go, mate! All clean." Sirius lifted the baby in his arms, tossing him once into the air before pulling him in for a gentle cradle. Harry's jovial giggle filled the room.

Hermione's face slowly crept into a smile when she saw the small boy holding onto Sirius. He reached out and held a lock of hair securely in his little fist, playfully pulling as his green eyes widened with fulfillment. A foreshadowing of his future and how much Harry wanted so deeply to have Sirius as his second father, once he discovered him.

"Say hello, Harry," Sirius provoked, glancing back and forth from Harry to Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip coy, humoring Sirius as if she did expect a solid "hello" from the jolly child. She stepped closer, her eyes into his green ones and maternally reaching to adjust his collar that had flipped up on his baby jumper. Like a tranquil peace settling over her, knowing that the future outcome would make him safe in the rubble that currently stood as a house, she let out a content sigh. A trembling hand couldn't help but run fingers through his black wild hair that stuck up in several places, refusing to be pat down. Her forefinger passed over his forehead, admiring the sweet clear skin without the scar.

Just over a year and he was not yet prepared to be the orphaned child. Instead, he whimpered quietly for Sirius to play with him, or at least bounce him and take away his fussiness. Such sweet charm the small baby had, knowing that Sirius wouldn't let him go as he was held and coddled. Never knowing the limitless love two parents could give and a godfather that would sacrifice himself for his well-being, he was condemned to be treated as no more than a second thought to an aunt, uncle and spoiled cousin. A life Harry never deserved.

Seeing Harry in Sirius's arms again was getting a little too overwhelming as she envisioned the tragedy to happen in only a month's time. Two innocent people killed, Sirius in prison, Harry orphaned, Remus gone, Peter hidden... it was all just too surreal.

"See, I told you he was a handsome bugger," Sirius announced, enhancing the moment. He heard the ring of the bell that hinted him to an opportunity. "So, if you had to choose, who'd it be, love? Me, or the tiny suitor, here?"

There was no denying a certain twinkle in his eye when he asked her, so she played along. Hermione smiled and placed a finger to her lips as she tilted her head in thought, "That's such a tough question, Sirius. I don't know. Two strong men, gorgeous eyes, thick dark hair...hmm..." she played. She was pleased with his subtle mood change. "I suppose I'd have to consider Harry, but the height thing might be a problem. I guess you win."

Sirius pursed his lips into a smile, as he lightly bounced Harry in his arms. Captivated by her simple beauty, he admired the way her thick tendrils fell in front of her shoulders and framed her face as she leaned in closer to smile for Harry. Her sweet profile enchanted him and he raised his free hand to lightly move her chin towards him, not giving her a second chance to shrink away.

His lips were demanding and cool against her, she felt compelled to move away because of Harry being there, but that little pull in her heart made her stay. Willpower level was quickly depleting and it wasn't until she felt the tiny hand reach for her own hair and give a tug, did she remember where she was.

After Sirius placed Harry back in his crib, tucking him in and taking his wand out to enchant the mobile to circulate again, the two of them quickly crept out of the nursery. Without a thought, Sirius reached for her hand, interlacing it with his own and guiding her down the stairs as if they were walking down the street together side by side.

Taking her with him, he went back into the kitchen and released her hand, only for him to playfully corner her against the kitchen counter. He took the liberty of taking her arms and placing them around his neck for her, as he lightly placed his hands around her waist in an intimate fashion.

"Where were we?" he quietly asked, sneaking a kiss from her.

Two days ago, Hermione would have believed that the entire world as we knew it would just come to a screeching halt. Two days ago, Hermione would have never thought that Sirius would ever find her the type to be playful with as he teased her with a lip nip. And days ago, Hermione would never have allowed herself kiss him back, for fear of severe collateral damage and or unnatural awkwardness once she returned back to her own time. After all, make no mistake, she was returning. If the _Obliviator _spell was still an option, it will be deeply considered.

In the meantime, feeling like she was being very bad with allowing him to rub his hands tightly along her ribcage was going to have to be acceptable in order to fit in. Just being friends at this point was not an option. Especially when he was an exceptionally good kisser that just made your ears want to melt right down your neck.

Just as she was enjoying the gentle kisses he was leaving on her lips, moistening them up for a good deep lashing that was just shy of the first ten minutes of a porn film, he abruptly tore himself away and snapped his fingers playfully.

"I'm hungry," he sashayed backwards towards the refrigerator. "You hungry, kitten?"

His friskiness was endearing and all she could do was smile and shake her head. As he spun around with a fun step, she wiped around her lips, guilty of any evidence left behind.

Sirius ducked into the refrigerator, moving a few things around that clanked their obstruction. He pulled out a bowl of grapes and another beer bottle for himself, after offering one to her that she quickly shook her head for and instead accepted an offered pumpkin juice. He leaned casually against the counter, popping a grape into his mouth and following it with a hearty swig. Loose locks fell away from his face as he tipped his head back.

"So, where did Lily and James go, tonight?" Hermione asked, reaching for a grape. Though he was sure to take his proper placement directly in front of her in order to carry on, she was a little curious to his side of the situation that marked his days.

"They, ah, went to see a man named Albus Dumbledore. Have you heard of him?" he asked as he tossed a grape into the air, catching it clear in his mouth. His entire character was very cool and relaxed like he knew she was going to ask him eventually why they were there.

"Yes, of course I've heard of him," she excused as she rolled her eyes. Who truly didn't know Dumbledore?

"Well, he was our Headmaster at school and we, ah, got to know him really well. You could say we visited him in his office," Sirius hinted. He raised his eyebrows to clarify further, "A lot."

Hermione nodded, unimpressed and almost bored with the notion that Harry had gotten his mischievous side from his father. A trait her best friend always seemed to outshine. "I get it."

"Well, now that we're all grown up, we decided to fight against all the bad ones out there. So, Dumbledore is kind of a good part of the organization, or good side, if you will. Non Death Eaters, that is."

Hermione pretended to look intrigued as she grabbed another grape. Knowing perfectly well that he was discussing The Order, she asked no questions, but remained captivated like he were telling a thrilling story.

"We've been hearing some terrible developments," he began, pausing a minute to turn his head to listen for the stirrings of Harry. He always remained very in-tune to whatever that child was doing while under his watch. "Apparently, James and Lily are very high on Voldemort's list and they were just going to go and speak to Dumbledore on this. They don't like to bring Harry out and about together under these circumstances and it's either Remus or I to watch the little man. I usually go with them, but since Remus was busy, I am always happy to step into those "fatherly" shoes." He flashed a brilliant smile and asked, "Have I mentioned that I adore that kid?"

Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice quietly, her cheeks warmed at the sound of excitement in his voice whenever he mentioned Harry. She glanced away as she set down her glass and confirmed, "You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes, Sirius."

Slowly, his smile faltered and he popped another grape in his mouth. He was keen on the connection he felt with the pretty girl that spoke to him in a real worldly sort of way. Far from the ramblings of lesser interesting creatures, there was no mistaking his growing attraction to the girl leaning against the counter with him in the kitchen. Far from the pub dwellings or swanky clubs with loud rock music, he was discovering a "type" he'd been looking for in all the wrong places.

"Do you want children of your own, someday?" Hermione asked, breaking the moment of silence. She'd noticed him watching her for far too long and was beginning to feel slightly out of place, like he'd suddenly discovered that she was wearing something or said something from the future that was being given away. Regardless, she just set it back to paranoia.

"Without a doubt. I feel I have to make right with what my parents did to me," he said, holding out the bowl of grapes before putting them away back into the refrigerator. Closing the ice box door, he reached for his beer and turned around to rest his elbows on the counter to lean.

"You turned out all right," Hermione insisted, passing by him to refill her pumpkin juice.

"I know that," he chuffed, flipping his hair out of his eyes to better see the every move she made as she walked by. His eyes drifted down her rear form, admiring how tight her jeans accented her slim figure. "I meant with the brainwashing. My parents were very anti-muggleborns. They tried to drill it in my head about our family motto, _Toujours pur_-"

"Always pure," she nodded, as she closed the ice box door and took her place back on the other side of the sink, "I've heard that before."

"Have you?"

"Well, I've heard of your family, before," she shrugged her shoulders, slightly put off by their mission.

"And you still talked to me?" he asked, slightly concerned. He stood up straighter, seeing that she was familiar with his family lineage. Something she'd never mentioned before.

Hermione was silent at first, dwelling on the idea that most of his dark family still lived or were not yet convicted. Sirius was wrongfully charged as his hateful pureblood family carried on in their own quiet evil ways.

"Well, I believe it was you who followed me on his motorbike that day when I tried to walk away," she slowly grinned.

"Right, sure, but you knew who I was? That's why you knew my name, already." Sirius was titillated by all her knowledge.

Clearing her throat, she was beginning to get nervous over how much she did actually know. Playing it off like his family held that strong of a reputation, which they did, was a decent alibi for the time being. "Yes, that's why. I've heard of you, or rather I'd seen you around...in passing."

"On your trips?"

"What?" she asked, not sure about what trips he meant.

"On your trips back from America. When you would come and visit your aunt-"

"Right, yes, on my trips. Yes, I'd seen you around when I was down in Diagon Alley or wherever."

"So, you knew my family?" he asked. His beer bottle clinked as he put it alongside the others he'd already emptied and slowly moved closer to her.

"A little," she answered, watching the way he started to slink up to her. She slowly took a step back, meeting his step for step until her back was pressed up against the other side of the kitchen counter. A canister of sharp kitchen utensils were within her reach, should she have to use them in defense.

His handsome mouth lifted on one side, amused that she was playfully backing away from him, but quickly realized she had no where else to go. "So, you can see why I want to have children, to reprogram them to believe different."

Though one might believe he was coming across too severe, there was that hint of playfulness that whispered out to her, to let her know he would never hurt her. As devilishly handsome as he was when he played to all his royal features, perfect jaw, curved lips, sharp grey eyes and an aura that would melt butter in a freezer, Hermione was not afraid of him. She trusted him.

"I think you would make a great father," she had a slight problem choking that out, by how intense his stare was to her. She was beginning to weaken. He was insanely gorgeous at that moment.

"I'm glad you can see me and not be blinded by what's around me," he whispered, gentling himself for her. He lifted his fingers to slide down the side of her cheek as he took in every feature of hers. "I grew up with a lot of hate and prejudice and that sometimes plays against me."

Nervously, she swallowed, but found it very difficult to look away from his eyes as he stood so close. His belt buckle was pressing against her and she found solace in his gentle caressing. "But, I always knew you were different, Sirius. From the beginning, I saw you for who you were, not what you came from. I see you with Harry and that confirms everything to me. You mean a lot to him and to James, Lily and Remus."

"...and Peter," he added with a slight nod.

She swallowed again, painfully repeating the name, "...of course, and Peter."

Sirius repositioned his hands around her waist, fortifying her place right there close before him. She had nowhere to go, but didn't object to his gentle caressing as he pinned her against the counter. His hands smoothed over her body, down her arms, up around her neck and then ended by holding a hand with his down to his side. He sighed contentment.

"You have a lot of hidden gifts," he mused. His free hand still enjoyed lightly touching her earlobe and neck as he occasionally rubbed a thumb over her perfectly plump lips he was holding out for. It was almost like he was making sure she really existed.

Pleasantly confined before him, she loved enduring his gentle soft touches as they held hands. Their close proximity was just as intimate as before when she laid under him on the couch. The fact that he hadn't even kissed her as they stood together in the kitchen was making her hotter than July, so she humored his every word. Sometimes, a little too honestly.

A slight smiled made her shake her head, "I'm just books and manuals. I always had help when I was in school."

"No," he whispered. "You can read people. You have the traits of a Seer, I think."

She shied away with a full smile with the silly memory of Professor Trelawney in her Divinations class, "Doubtful. Some of that is just rubbish, really."

"Now, how can you say that?" he asked as he tilted his head, disagreeing with her. "You've proven to me that you can read people. You know more about me, than I think I know about me. I'm almost afraid to make you angry out of fear that you might use it against me."

She blushed and bit her lip, "I wouldn't do that."

He grinned back and finally leaned in to give her a soft kiss, holding her for at least three seconds before moving. Savoring her again, they made it so easy together.

Between slow blissfully agonizing laps she whispered, "Well, not intentionally."

Sirius smiled into the kiss and pulled away, comfortably at ease with her presence. He could keep kissing her, but then that would mean that he couldn't look at her and memorize every fraction of every feature. She comforted him more than what he could put into words and for that, he was just grateful.

"I'll have to warn you, though," she whispered, slowly opening her eyes to his hypnotic grey ones that seemed to look so far deep into her, it almost made her lose her breath. "I am a fighter."

His eyes looked all over her face and he pursed his lips to size her up, "Yes, well, I am too." He kissed her quick, "When I see something I want, I've been known to be incredibly difficult when I don't get my way."

The sound of his voice soothed the depth of her heart and her levels of willpower were quickly depleting. She was doomed.

He kissed her once more, sinking into it as if she were swimming in quicksand. Making hardly any effort, their intensity rose and suddenly she was more aware of the two of them being the two of "them". Together. As one. No strings. This was real and it was really happening. Their chemistry was mixing together faster than a final in Snape's potions class and the results were overwhelming. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as it raced in her chest, euphorically elated with the emotional development. There was no doubt that they felt as connected as they did, discovering a new side to them that she would probably have never taken the chance to learn.

It was easy for him, she was just another girl, but a girl he felt compelled to know. For her, this was to an entirely different level. Damage control would have to be done; awkward moments in the house when she returned home will be strong and the constant question of "what if" will plague her memories for the rest of her life. Not to mention the subtle softness he had in his lips that made you want to playfully nip them in order to entice him to press on.

She hardly made any effort, except for raising a hand to his cheek to feel the coarse stubble under her fingers. She lightly caressed him; a mental thank you for taking the time with her. They bumped noses a few times, but their lips lapped for one another without question. So easy, like a dance, she willingly allowed him the permission to deepen his kiss. Their tongues ran across each other like they were two parts of an equation trying to get a satisfactory answer, but to no avail; they wanted to keep discovering.

His hand lifted to her neck, lightly scraping his fingernails over her exposed skin. With a gentle grip, he held her neck and rubbed his thumb over her ear to manipulate her in his direction. He drank into her as if she was a fresh spring water stream and she held the nectar of life.

"I have to admit," he whispered as he nuzzled into the side of her face. "I'm usually a right arse, right about now." He was drunk on her aura.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a gasping breath. She did not want to pull away already.

"Normally, by now," his voice was low and breathy; focused. "I would have tried to seduce you so far beyond your own limit, that you'd be an easy kill."

Hermione's strength empowered her and with a gentle nip against his own earlobe she whispered heavy, "I told you I was a fighter."

Sirius playfully growled against her and encouraged her game. He slid his hands behind her thighs and lifted her up to sit on the kitchen counter in front of him. He pushed himself between her legs, where she promptly wrapped them around his waist and threw her arms around his neck to take him in.

"You make it a worthy challenge," he claimed, making his soft and gentleness a little rougher.

She welcomed him as her heart pounded on. Her breath was beginning to become more and more erratic as his hands slid down her thighs, around her waist and up her back. He teased her with his

His very touch was enough to unwind her enough to almost give in, but it was her conscience screaming inside of her head that all of this, every inch of pleasure she was enduring, was bad. She needed to be good, but she wanted to live. She was enjoying the last few moments far too much to not experience them and for just once, she wanted to leap and forget about the rules. Be selfish for once and not consider the damage. Because, for Sirius, it was becoming deeply worth it. She had come there to do a job, a mission she had created, but had fallen into a known stranger's lap only to discover the real person that had been locked up for far too long.

The sheer intensity was rising and she took a moment to breathe, "I'm not an easy girl to know."

Sirius welcomed her to explore him, touch him, and caress him. He encouraged any idea she might have to test her limits, offering himself up as the sacrificial lamb to her exploits. But, the sound of his voice made him slow down his own expedition, just to catch his own breath and settle himself down, before he pushed her too far.

"I realize that," he said, looking up into her. He loved the way her wavy hair created a curtain around her face that only he could see. "But, what is it about you that I can't put my finger on?"

His voice was quiet, personal and almost like he was asking her soul to spill her secrets. But she was a locked safe of answers that would push him forward. With his perfect cut jaw, his charming sense of humor with just enough dash of arrogance, he was not expecting this to go as he normally planned.

Her arms still rested around his neck, her fingers stroking his soft black locks, and she shook her head for him, "You wouldn't believe me, if I told you."

He closed his eyes as if her voice were music to his ears and said, "Oh, you should try me, someday." He kissed her again. "And I mean try me," he began, pausing with a breath. "In every sense of the word."

The muggle T.V. programming played on throughout the living room. Sirius and Hermione had vacated the kitchen, after a few more extra moments of seductive snogging, and settled down together on the couch. Sirius sat in the corner and propped his feet up on the coffee table as Hermione laid across and up against his chest, slowly drifting away into a light nap. All the intimate petting had worn them down.

Keys jingled from outside and the front door unlatched. A quiet squeak indicated that a good oiling spell could be used on the door hinges as it opened. James and Lily emerged from the dark night to view the cookie cutter scene set before them, now with Sirius slumbering away.

With a finger to his lips, James turned behind him to see Lily, "Shh, they're both sleeping on the couch."

She nodded and smiled as she looked over at the napping couple, then back at James, "I'm just going to go check on the baby."

The stirrings and sounds of James in the kitchen alerted Sirius of his friends returning home. He looked around him, taking a moment to remember what he did last and then looked down at the angelic vision resting against him. He almost hated to move, but the sound of James tinkering bottles around made him carefully maneuver away without disturbing her slumber. He gently laid Hermione down in his newly vacated spot and tucked a pillow under her head to add to her comfort.

Once free, he turned and wandered into the kitchen to join James and hear the news he missed out on. Sirius hated not knowing everything.

"Beer, mate?" James asked, pulling out a bottle from the fridge.

Sirius shook his head regrettably, "No, I have to ride her home and if she sees me with one more, she might worry."

James shrugged his shoulders and offered him a bottle of Coca Cola, instead. Sirius took it with slight resentment and a disgusted sneer of his lip, but walked off towards the kitchen table. James chuckled under his breath as he watched his friend kick out a chair and fall into it like an annoyed child not getting his way.

James pulled out the chair across from Sirius and sat down, taking a long loud sip of his beer, deliberately making the remaining contents splash before setting the bottle down on the old wooden table. A glimmer of spite flashed behind James's circle glasses that made Sirius finally break into a smile.

Sirius straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, he took a swig from his own bottle and smacked his lips loudly to announce his momentary satisfaction and leaned in, "So, what did I miss?

"The norm. Nothing new," James baited with a side glance.

"Don't lie, Prongs! I'm dyin here, what's the next move? Are Frank and Alice going to give us any information or do we have to wait and find out? I swear, those two, truly a rare pair together. I mean, could you imagine the information that gets drilled into them every day and then they get to go home and live a normal life with their son? What a life that kid has ahead of him. Funny looking kid, too. Huge ears."

"Frank," they both said in unison, confirming where boy had inherited his ears.

"No doubt, there," James continued.

"I might like to try and be an Auror after all this is said and done. You have no idea how much of a rise I could get, bringing in my family," Sirius said, tipping back on two legs of his chair as he envisioned the personal glory. "Oh, the secrets I could spill! I can just see the look on Bella's face, now. Such a beautiful woman, too. She'll look great in Azkaban stripes!"

James couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Sirius animate his plans with wild hands and empty threats, "Padfoot, you'd be a shoo-in for the job!"

The two men chuckled to themselves, amused with Sirius's future job plans. They took swigs from their respective bottles and carried on.

"Emmeline asked about you, though," James said, setting his bottle down on the table.

Sirius smiled at the corner of his mouth and raised his eyebrows, "I bet she did." He mused to himself of something he might not have been proud of doing, but shook his head, "Just not...not interested mate." He came down on all four legs of his chair and leaned forward, "Did you ask McGonagall?"

James sipped his beer and pushed up the bridge of his glasses, "I did. She was pretty tight lipped about her. Said the family kind of distanced themselves....and, funny thing is...she calls her Rose, too."

Sirius smirked, "Maybe it was just a lucky guess. I've been known to be quite a clever wizard."

James smiled and nodded, humoring his best friend, "You have, Padfoot."

Suddenly, as silence took a moment to pass, Sirius's light hearted demeanor changed and quietly he sunk himself into deep thought. "I heard Marlene is definitely dead," he said with a grave voice.

"Ah....yes, she is," James confirmed with a cordial nod. "She didn't suffer though, it was quick. Moody said it must have happened back in July, right after the group picture."

Sirius just stared ahead of him, trying to refrain from letting it affect him or show any kind of emotion regarding it. It was already difficult enough to be a part of a secret society and by now he should be used to hearing about deaths and killings. Unfortunately, when it was someone that you might have wanted to care for, it was difficult to wrap your head around it sometimes. He tried to run far away from what his family supported, resulting in the occasional pang whenever hearing of someone you knew had received something they didn't deserve.

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, mostly to catch any potential tearing in his eye and then glanced away towards Hermione, who was safely sleeping on the couch a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, Padfoot. I'm really sorry," James whispered.

Sirius slowly shook his head, "She was a good one, James. I really..._really_ liked her_."_

"I know, mate. We all did. She was a very gifted witch. Lily still doesn't know."

The two men sat silent for a few extra minutes, sipping from their bottles. The wind outside was starting to pick up, setting an eerie dismal tone over their conversation. It didn't help that storm clouds were beginning to come in and Sirius and Hermione still had a ride ahead of them. The house tinkered and set as it settled against the winds.

"So, what's with your new girlfriend, Sirius?" Lily asked as she slipped into the kitchen and unveiled a plate of brownies she had made earlier that day. She set them down in the center of the table as she took one and laid it on a napkin for her to pick at.

Sirius gave himself a mental shake and feigned a smile for the pretty redhead, "We're getting there."

"She seems really nice. Too nice for you. Smart one, too. Not your typical type, I'm impressed," Lily added as she surveyed the sleeping girl resting on her couch. Then, it hit her and she scanned her sly eyes towards Sirius, "Muggleborn?"

Feeling two sets of eyes on him, he slowly met her eyes, as if he were hiding something that was like a deep dark secret, "Maybe..."

Lily broke into a smile and slapped James playfully on the wrist, "See James, I told you!" Then she lightly punched Sirius with a giggle, "You dog!"

"But, that's not why! I swear, Lily!" Sirius declared with a big grin on his face. He reached for her arm to help her see his side and plead his innocence.

"Whatever, Sirius. I know you. You think you're clever-"

"I am clever!" he defended, grabbing a brownie from the plate and shoving the entire thing in his mouth, as if it were a hidden talent.

"You and your little fetishes. Your mother would be pissed!" James said chuckling, winking at his wife.

"What can I say?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm a glutton for punishment and they just fascinate me." His last hungry glance was in the direction of Hermione, who still lay peaceful and unaware.

Lily smiled and rolled her eyes at her long time friend. She bundled up her napkin after she finished her brownie and got up to get ready for bed. She kissed her husband good-night and then went around to Sirius to lay a kiss on his head like a doting mother, "Just mind your manners, Sirius. Thanks for looking after Harry and be careful out there, tonight."

The two men smiled at Lily as she quietly tip-toed passed their sleeping guest and disappeared into the hall where they could hear the house settling as she climbed the stairs. Once out of view, the two men resumed their conversation.

"So, what does Dumbledore say about it?" Sirius asked as he retied his ponytail. Several stray locks were beginning to fall into his sightlines.

"He says we need to do it. He volunteered to be our Keeper."

"Absolutely not, it's got to be me," Sirius shook his head and leaned forward, slapping his hand on the table.

"Lily is just not that keen on it. We'd cut ourselves off from the outside world, mate. Our lives....change."

"You've got a family to protect, Prongs! You have to convince her and...and you know I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Any of you. You, Harry, Lily, Remus or Peter. You all are my family and to lose any of you would just-" Sirius stopped himself before he lost it anymore.

"I know, Sirius."

"So, convince her. I'll be the Keeper and, well, if that gets out, then they'll come after me so...so, then...I'll have to go into hiding as well." Sirius tried to sound as rational as possible, but still had to mull over what he'd just said.

"Sirius..."

"No, it's for the greater good. I got enough to last, so I'll disappear somewhere tropical. An island, maybe. Somewhere I can just lay on the beach naked." Sirius went on about his tropical exile, as if it were going to be paradise.

"And what about your new girl?"

Sirius looked over to the sleeping Hermione that lay on the couch, oblivious to the world around her. Delicate curls fell around her face, framing the porcelain skin with rose colored lips. She was so pretty to him; he was already beginning to feel that pang in his heart. Something within him started to tighten.

"I don't know, mate," he stared on, slowly shaking his head. "Bad timing, I guess."

"Well," James began, trying to help his friend see the better light. "Maybe she'll be like the others and it'll be easy."

Sirius shook his head, glancing at his friend and then connecting his eyes back on Hermione asleep in the living room. "That's the problem, mate. She's not like the others and that's what's scary. Just got this feeling about her. I'm really starting to like her...a lot. Maybe....maybe, I don't know...maybe I can convince her to come with me."

"You mean leave everything behind? Not go back to America and live with you on a tropical island where only the natives might see you?" James continued, testing his friend's plan.

Sirius was beginning to hear the sound of mockery creeping in and he gave James a side glance. "Yes," he confirmed and raised his eyebrows, "Hell, even I couldn't say no if I asked me to run away with me!"

James gave his friend a good chuckle and watched his best friend lean back in his chair and flip the remaining locks strained from a half ponytail out of his face as he dreamt about sandy beaches and his scantily clad date.


	19. Mudbloods and Purebloods

_A note from Serade Black: As always, thank you for the reviews. They do encourage me to work (faster), because I'm over the moon that anyone jumps into the same fantasy that I have with these two characters. I hope to meet some of you this summer at Azkatraz (HP Symposium), as well! That being said...I'm trying to work a little quicker. Enjoy! ~SB_

Ch. 19

**Mudbloods and Purebloods**

Sirius managed to rouse a sleepy Hermione who clung to him tightly as they rode back to her house. He had done well affixing a positioning spell on her, fearful that she might doze off and fall through the clouds on him, but she managed to stay awake for the night ride.

Cool damp air met the exposed skin on her wrists where her jacket did not reach. She remained closely bundled and pressed against him as he drove the flying motorbike smoothly through the wisps of clouds. The whirring of the engine kept a steady pace, accelerating as Sirius controlled the speed.

When the front tire touched the cement and they rolled up to her front garden, the clouds they had coasted through started to open up. Driving above the floating wet marshes had its advantages, but it was when they touched down on the wet streets did they lose control of their dryness factor.

"Quick love, get inside!" Sirius said urgently. He remained seated, keeping his motorcycle idle as Hermione quickly jumped off.

She dashed up the stoop, reaching around in her bag for her keys. Droplets the size of golf balls seemed to pour down over her as she stood on her uncovered doorstep. Concerned for Sirius, she kept glancing back to see him getting drenched. Finally, she found her key and put it in the lock to push it open enough to get her bag inside.

"You're not riding home in this, are you?" she yelled out through the rain, her hand still on the handle.

"It's fine. I do it all the time," he called back. "You get the door open? Good. Now, come over here and kiss me good night!" His voice was drowning in the rain and he was getting completely soaked.

Hermione wasn't afraid of getting wet, but she was concerned about him riding in the rain that was beginning to pour harder on them and slightly at a slant. Pretty soon, her controlled curls were stretching out to wavy heavy locks. Her shirt was soaked through and her modesty was not being salvaged.

She jumped down off the steps, hurrying back over to him as he reached out for her. He kissed her quickly, eager to get her back inside, but she stayed. "You're not riding in this! It's coming down too hard!"

"I'm fine!" he cried out with wet black locks dripping in his face. "Now get inside, love. You're going to get sick!"

"I don't want you riding. Come inside with me," Hermione insisted, holding her arms close to her body to keep her warm. She was almost shivering and a lot of that was due to her concern for him riding in the weather, for if anything happened to him...she just didn't take her chances.

"Fine!" he replied, cutting the engine of this bike. He wasn't about to put up too much of an argument if a beautiful soaking wet girl asked him to come inside.

Hermione waited until Sirius started to get off his bike before turning around and hurrying back up the steps. He was close on her heel as she pushed the door all the way open and once they were both inside, she closed and latched it. Their breath was ragged from being in from the rain and with wide smiles, the two just stood in the front foyer dripping like wet laundry.

As they began to slowly peel their coats off their bodies, the rain had poured so hard they were both soaked all the way through. Hermione couldn't help but notice the way his t-shirt clung against his lean body, displaying a near perfect physique. His chest appeared firm, his stomach flat, and displayed the athletic build of a runner that was probably contributed to his Animagus form and the exercise he got from that. With that thought on the tip of her tongue, she silently commended him for his lack of subtly in hiding his unregistered trait, for he proceeded to shake out every part of his body and head, like a dog discarding water after a bath.

Her smile turned into a light laugh that made him stop in mid-shake. "I think I have more on me now, than before you did that."

The sound of her laugh lifted his heart, "Right, sorry."

Pulling her own tight t-shirt away from her skin, fearful that she may have been showing too much she said, "I'm going to go upstairs and quickly change. Do you want me to see if I can find some dry men's clothes?"

Half tempted to offer any help in assisting her with the removal of her wet clothes, he just shook his head and replied, "No, I know a rather good drying spell. I haven't used it in awhile, so I might screw it up and either end up dry or naked."

Hermione couldn't control it, but her natural response was slight shortness of breath and a blushing. Nervousness won her over and she resorted to a grin and before her cheeks could burn any more, she turned on her heel and quickly went up the stairs.

Upon her return, only ten minutes later, she emerged wearing a pair of yoga pants, fitted hoodie and fresh new warm socks. She bound down the stairs, stopping on the last one and holding onto the railing, calling over into the sitting room where she saw his boots laying in front of the coffee table, like he'd kicked them off. "You better have known the spell!"

After hearing no answer, she ventured into the room with her hands over her eyes, just in case he was standing bare in his birthday suit. Still no sound, she peeked through her fingers to see he wasn't even in the small cottage looking room with doilies and afghans. She looked to her left through the wide archway to see him taking off a steaming kettle from the stove.

...and he was shirtless.

An insecure rush started from her shoulders down to her newly warmed toes and she tore her eyes away as if she'd just caught him indecent. But, like a small girl with morbid curiosities, she couldn't look away for very long and as she swallowed, she forced herself to blink a few extra times for her drying eyes.

She saw his shirt draped over the back of a chair and as her eyes slowly trailed back up to the sight of his bare skin, she thought about how it clung to his body.

She could feel her heart beginning to pick up as her mouth opened just slightly for shallow breaths as she watched his muscles flexing naturally under sun kissed tan skin. His damp black hair fell past his shoulders where he'd occasionally flip his head back to free his sightlines. He wore only his blue jeans that sat low on his hips and socks, but his over appealing look left Hermione's mouth dry like she'd walked the desert for eight days.

He was beautiful.

So beautiful, that it made her ponder the mystery that surrounded him. She watched him for a few seconds longer, before he realized he wasn't alone, as it was obvious he didn't hear her voice calling out. She tiled her head to quietly study him, lips parting with how perfect he appeared in the small country kitchen. A healthy fit man, bare of tattoos, far from the thin frail being that she'd met first emerged from Azkaban.

She'd known that the older Sirius had taken the time to work on himself, gaining more muscle and getting back in shape, but she never knew what might have harbored under those velvet and corduroy threads. If she had known, then their moments alone might have turned out slightly different.

As she ogled the Adonis-like half naked man in McGonagall's kitchen, the papers scattered over the small table caught her eye. Notes and broken quills laid about an open "The White Line" that was dog eared and marked, possibly exposing her entire trip.

Quietly rushing over, she attempted to be as nonchalant about stacking her things together, flipping over papers, hiding notebooks and covering any traces of her own year.

"Two sugars?" he called over his shoulder, not turning around. The sound of rustling papers alerted him of her presence.

She panicked, "Yes! Don't forget the cream!" She heard him mumble something under his breath about his cream, but couldn't quite make it out. "What was that?" she called out, double checking that her stack of papers weren't going to fall over the second any vibration passed the table.

"Nothing! I won't forget the cream, love!" he sung out innocently.

The clink of a spoon lay on the counter and he turned around with two steaming cups in hand, just in time to see her straightening up and smiling with a guilty conscience. The steam followed him as he balanced passed her, walking over to set the two cups on the coffee table that had already been screened and cleared of any evidence that she didn't belong there.

Sighing her appreciation, she relaxed her shoulders and followed him and his low riding jeans, over to the love seat to enjoy a nice warm cup on a cool wet night. The vision of him was almost too much for her to handle and so she pictured him as if he were a teacher, any teacher, but a teacher not to be touched when displayed so heavenly sitting down next to her into the cushion confines.

"You're really into your research, aren't you?" he asked, nodding to the stack of books that were teetering on the edge of a major disaster. "Is that the book you were reading in the pub?"

She hesitated, as if glancing to her books would hide their titles, "Ah, yes. I love to read up on things that I'm not too familiar with."

"So, tell me about what you're looking into now."

"No," she answered quite bluntly. The sound of her own voice was incredibly too assertive, so much so that both she and Sirius were amazed that she could be as brash. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, let's not talk about my books. Let's talk about something else."

"All right."

"Were you unable to master the drying spell and that's why your shirt is laying over the chair?" she asked, slightly smug. The hot contents of the drink went down her throat as if it were warm honey, making her feel immediately relaxed and calm. If anything, this was probably the best cup of tea anyone had ever made her.

Low lidded suspicious eyes wandered over to him, wondering if he may have slipped something into her tea, but really it was just to admire the way his flat stomach relaxed as the skin was pulled taut. His bare shoulders were toned and well defined and she knew that she was doing a terrible job at hiding her adoration by allowing her eyes to linger a second too long on him.

He knew that she was looking at him, trying to quietly study him behind the steaming cup of tea she sipped so delicately and he loved every elongated second of it. He, in turn, couldn't help but admire her natural beauty with the way her face seemed to just glow in the warmth. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, reminding him of an overworked librarian. She didn't appear to have a stitch of make-up on, which was rare with his normal dates, as they always seemed to find time to pull off the "natural look" with a ruby red color of lipstick. Still, her question lingered.

"No, I knew the spell quite well," he replied with an alluring tone.

She curved her lips in query and used her forefinger to dismiss his lack of shirt, "Then why the lack of...clothing?"

"Well, about two minutes before you came back downstairs, I was completely starkers," he tested. She nearly missed her lips as she raised the cup to her mouth. "But, I managed to get my jeans back on in time."

Hermione was momentarily torn between being relieved she'd not returned to the sitting room sooner and also utterly pissed that she hadn't. Just imagining him now, this tightly toned tanned man with midnight black hair falling around his strong shoulders standing absolutely naked...was beyond her sane imagination.

_This is Sirius! This is Sirius! This is Sirius Black!_

"Why?" he asked as he placed his coffee cup on the table before him. He then leaned back with his arms open, resting them on the back of the couch. He threw his stocking feet up on the coffee table and crossed his ankles, displaying himself like a gigolo. "Do I make you nervous?"

She could only watch every move he made as if he were an intriguing puzzle. Radiating a sense of machismo that she never knew he harbored; it was as if he taught the first womanizers lessons in flirting for he was the subtle master. Acting coy and delicious, his chest just begging to be touched or oiled, he waited for an answer.

She swallowed and could hear her heart thumping loud in her ears like a bass drum, making the hair stand up on its end, but only in a good way. Her eyes were hooked into his gray ones, not breaking the link for anything in the world, but still coming across as nervous as a weak little rabbit in the clutches of the wolf.

She absent-mindedly licked her lips, "Yes."

Dark shadowed eyebrows lowered and a lip smirked pleasingly, "Good."

Realizing how she must have delivered her answer, she cleared her throat and set her tea cup on the coffee table and leaned back to get comfortable. "So, James and Lily say anything interesting when they got home? I'm sorry I fell asleep."

Sirius sensed her awkwardness and finally stopped smirking, "Nothing new to me, really. Oh, I talked about a good field of work I might go into, though."

Honestly intrigued, Hermione had never thought of Sirius with a career plan. For all she knew, the Sirius she lived with enjoyed his few hobbies, a fair amount of Quidditch with Harry, and vintage motorcycles. He still harbored a bit of resentment for his cheated life and didn't always enjoy the points and stares he got, even after the charges were cleared.

"What's that?" she sincerely asked leaning an elbow against the back of the couch, resting her cheek romantically.

"Auror," he smiled. The sound of his voice was genuine with a flavor of humor behind it.

"Auror? I wouldn't have struck you for anything that was regulated by the Ministry, Sirius."

He nodded as he let the idea swim in his head, turning his head in thought, "I rather like the conflict. Pureblood wizard from a dark family to hunt them down himself. I have no shame, you know."

Hermione smiled over how romantic he made it all sound, but secretly disheartened by the reality that he will never get a chance to pursue it. "I think it's a good idea, Sirius. Good plan."

"Yeah, maybe I can get Peter to join me. He's always looking for a following to tag along with," he rambled. His voice sounded concerned, almost fatherly, when he mentioned Peter's name, leaving a huge pang in Hermione's heart.

"Yes, well, perhaps you should just worry about yourself getting into being an apprentice," she said, discreetly kicking a nearby book under the sofa so that he didn't read the cover.

"I get the sense that you don't much care for Peter, love," Sirius suggested. His head tilted in concern, his hair fell over his bare shoulder.

She quickly glanced back over at the half naked handsome man sitting across from her on the small couch, "No, why would you say that?" She swallowed as she lied.

"Well, anytime I mention his name, I catch you cringing a little. I'll admit he's not the best looking guy of the group, but he's still one of my best friends."

At first she was going to explain herself, but then just played it off that he was wrong, "No, why would you think that? I think Peter is fine, Sirius. I just don't see him as much as I have the rest, that's all." She should have won an Academy Award for her false innocence.

"You just have to spend more time with him and then, soon enough, you'll get to know him better and-"

"No!" she quipped.

Sirius blinked a few hard times, almost amazed that she'd cut him off, almost like she'd touched fire.

"I mean," she quickly recovered and rested her hand on his leg. She had to really up the ante now that she'd spoken too soon. "I mean, no, because that would take time away from spending it with you."

She could almost see Sirius regenerating into his normal machismo self. So quickly, the idea of Peter getting in on their time spent together was a thing of the past and he quickly warmed up to the idea of having her complete undivided attention. Probably suggesting more than what she could handle in the predicament she was in, she had to recover somehow in order to save her obvious dislike of Peter Pettigrew.

With a smooth side grin and a quick wink she was, once again, doomed.

"Now, that idea, I rather like better," he said with the cunning sound of a hunter.

An hour later, the old grandfather clock in the hallway filled the room with three gongs. Hermione had been captivated by his way of thinking regarding his family beliefs, his long time friendship with James, a little bit more on the secret group he belonged to and in the end, his passion for Harry. He almost thought he was boring her with the way he was doing most of the talking, but he felt so free to speak to her, he hardly stopped.

On the other side, she couldn't tear herself away from him. Never knowing the intimate details he kept was almost overwhelming, but she was absorbing it all like a sponge. He was a legend in her own time, a tragic hero in his own world, and always misunderstood. If she could take anything away from this experience, it would be that she finally understood him. She knew that once she returned to her own time, they'd be having some great conversations.

"You've got to be tired, angel. I've kept you up way beyond your beauty sleep, not that you need it, mind you," he finished with a slight tilt of his head.

"I'm fine," she said stretching out, her arms high in the air above her. "I haven't got anywhere to be in the morning. I'm sorry I've kept you," she said, stifling a yawn.

He leaned forward to sit up, but he stopped as her voice trailed to an apology that he quickly quipped, "You are my time these days, love."

Catching the sheer depth of his words, Hermione could only look away from him, feeling put on the spot by this gorgeous wizard. Her stomach started to feel nauseous, but a good nauseous, a flattering nauseous she should feel incredibly guilty for.

He patted her knee gently and got up to put his shirt back on. Almost sad to see him covered, Hermione admired the way his muscles flexed slightly with even the smallest move he made. So slim and defined, it was no wonder women were left yearning for him after he left them. He had so much to offer, he was smart, clever, witty and in the end, a very pretty man to look at. He wasn't perfect; he had his faults, like being stubborn, sometimes very close-minded, his family, Peter Pettigrew, and his impatience (which he developed later in life). But, in the short time that Hermione had been there, she'd at least given him the chance to reveal a more private side of himself. A side he probably would never have offered her in her own time, because after being alone for so long, one changes. One starts getting used to solitary life and forbids change, even by the slightest. The older Sirius that she knew was far from the character that took a strong fancy to her now, but knew hints and flashes of him still existed.

Hermione walked ahead of him to the front door and pulled the curtains back to inspect the wet bushes outside. It appeared dry enough to leave in; the torrential rain had stopped and all that was left was the humid air and steam rising from the warm streets.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love," he said as he came up behind her, pulling on his coat. The sound of his rustling clothes quietly excited her as she turned around to face him, brown eyed and bushy haired. He lifted his hand to run the backs of his fingers down her soft cheek, "I've got a think with Remus in the afternoon, so I'll send you an owl later."

Hermione nodded and glanced away. It was apparent by her body language that she didn't want him to go. Wrong as it might have been, she teetered on the brink of making irrational decisions, even after she'd already stuck her foot in her mouth. There was no denying that she genuinely enjoyed spending time with the young Sirius. He fascinated her and he represented a historical icon in her eyes. The fact that he was mouth watering without a shirt on or the way he made her skin burn whenever he'd wink at her was beside the point. She was really beginning to like him...a lot.

With a slight smile and a curve of his fingers around her chin, he lifted her face higher so that he could kiss her good-night. Like savoring the lasting sweetness of melting chocolate, he came in for a second kiss to seal their deal. In a whirl, he was already closing the door behind him before she opened her eyes to realize that he was gone. His scent still lingered around her and pulled the curtain of the door back to see him walk his motorcycle to the street and kick off with a steady start of the engine.

It was evident that he was creating a constant stirring deep down within her. Something that plagued her with overwhelming guilt, but secretly thrilled her whenever he'd come around. The attraction was growing and their comfort levels together massively improved. Small little fun bickering here and there, far from good strong hateful rows one would think would happen between two vastly different generations, but they were more alike than they ever let on to know.

This deeply amazed Hermione that he had been almost like a locked safe in her time. She was becoming acutely aware of how darkly seclusion had taken him under. What he needed in her time, more than ever, was more appreciation and not some cheapened thrill. He had always been very particular with the company he kept, maybe even a little paranoid, but he was far from any playboy people might mistake him to be. Sure a man had his needs, but a man can do just as well with himself than by settling in with someone that didn't stimulate him mentally.

Which is why a few days later, Sirius would come around to fetch Hermione away from her books and notebooks to do nothing and everything together. From long motorcycle rides, to lunch at small cafes in muggle London, to the park for a picnic, they were both learning a great deal about each other. Some things Hermione already knew about him, but allowed him the freedom to show off and some things she'd never dreamt of revealing to him in her time, all because she didn't know him in this fashion. Something she was deeply learning to regret.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sirius and Hermione were strolling along the low traffic sidewalks of Diagon Alley. Together their steps walked in unison, right then left, and for the first time, it was Hermione that reached out to hold his hand. A practice he had taken the initiative to do, somewhat still hesitant with her slight reluctance at times, so this was a silent monumental occasion. They'd just passed the small stationary shop, Hermione quickly taking a glance through the windows when she'd blindly reached for his hand out of comfort. She slid her hand into his so easily; it was like they were made for each other. His soft hand held hers, taking no time to interlace them together and lightly bump against her with his shoulde to show subtle gratification.

Hermione's cheeks met their rose hue and she looked down at the ground in front of them, watching her Conversed feet and his booted ones walk together at a relatively slow, comfortable pace.

"So, Sunday, again?" Sirius asked quietly, keeping their conversation private and intimate as they strolled along. He was beginning to feel like they were sharing a world all of their own.

"Yes? You want me to come along, again?" Hermione asked, biting her lower lip and quickly glancing to her left to see his head bowed and his face in thought.

"I want you there every Sunday," he confirmed. He had just glanced up to make sure they weren't walking into anyone, when he suddenly stopped abruptly and stared ahead of them across the street.

He tightened his grip on her hand when he stopped, urging her to stay close next to him, as if he'd just seen a dangerous animal cross their path. Immediately, his lips parted slightly and his private, intimate feeling evaporated.

"Sirius, what is it?" she asked, looking in the same direction and then back at Sirius who stood stiff and defensive, like he sensed danger.

"It's my mother," he said gravely. His lip started to sneer on its own as he watched across the street suspiciously.

His entire body went rigid and on-alert as Hermione quickly glanced again as her breath escaped her. Anxiety began to fill her, having felt, once again, that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. She did not mean for Sirius to endure any type of altercation that might somehow alter the timeline, but it was, after all, her idea to see Remus at Flourish and Blotts for a new, but old to her, book that she had wanted.

Hermione's eyes traveled to the place where Sirius stood watching like a hunting deer. Standing across the street, right before the split off to Knockturn Alley, there was a woman in formal dress of black, silver and maroon accents. Her face was aged, but her ash colored hair was pulled so tightly under a small witch's hat, it lifted her wrinkles. She wore black lace gloves under a long sleeved court gown with a velvet shawl around her shoulders. She displayed obvious wealth and had no problem with displaying it by the look of the high quality fabric. Standing and speaking to another man dressed in black robes, she was already accompanied by two older men that Hermione could only guess were definitely direct blood relatives to Sirius. They resembled him with their dark hair, sharp features and tall slender figures that surrounded them with an air of arrogance Sirius could not deny he was a part of.

At first, Hermione stood still and watched the small huddle with intrigue. She knew Sirius to be the last of his family, next to Bellatrix and Narcissa. He was the last man to carry the Black name, thus leaving everything in his Will to Harry when he died. She watched how Sirius narrowed his eyes like a hunter, forever suspicious to their business, but wanting to speak to her with an angry tongue.

"I haven't seen her since my father's funeral," Sirius said with a stiff upper lip.

"Sirius-"

"She senses me," he said, cutting Hermione off. He watched across the street like an animal ready to strike its prey.

Hermione swallowed quietly and held onto Sirius's hand and arm with both of hers. She looked across the street and witnessed first hand maternal instinct taking over the woman she only knew from her screeching portrait. The older woman saw Sirius standing there across the street and excused herself to the person she was speaking to and leaned to whisper quietly to the man next to her. He looked up with a sour look on his face, displaying obvious repulsion.

"That would be my Uncle Cygnus she's whispering to, Andromeda's dad." Sirius practically spat the name out under his breath. He was too occupied with the sight of his mother.

The older woman slowly glanced to either side of her before crossing the street. The two men flanked her, acting as bodyguards of sort. With dark shadows practically following them, it was obvious they were making their way across the street to speak to Sirius who clashed in his attire compiled of an old rock T-shirt, holey blue jeans, and cowboy boots. His worst accessory being the muggleborn witch by his side that he held the hand of proudly.

"Whatever she says, Hermione let it roll off. She's a wicked, vile woman that doesn't care about anyone, but her own family. I'm apologizing right now-"

"I'm fine, Sirius. I can hold my own," she confirmed. She watched as he mechanically positioned himself in front of her, shielding Hermione from whatever his mother might say once she got about five feet of them.

Walburga Black stood proud, her chin rose in the air with assumed royalty, as she surveyed her son's attire with disgust. Her lip turned as she closed her eyes and nodded her head as if she'd just seen the death of a rat happen before her.

"You're an insult to our family," she whispered to him from several feet away. It was obvious that she was already put out by even speaking to him.

"No more than you, to me. I'd change my last name, if I wasn't already on a mission to change its reputation," Sirius defied. He showed no feeling towards his own mother, but he still managed an inkling of respect.

"You will die with nothing, Sirius! A stain on the name, that's all that you are. You're nothing like Regulus-"

"Regulus died a coward-"

"He died a hero! Your father even said so-"

"I don't give a damn what my father thought. He was just as thick!"

Mrs. Black closed her eyes to take a moment; she did not wish to speak an ill word of her late husband. She lost her patience with Sirius, her eldest and only living son, but his lack of beliefs was just too exhausting on her. She slowly opened her yellowing eyes with beady black dots and tilted her head to acknowledge the young brunette witch that stood behind Sirius.

"I see you've not lost your taste for weak mudbloods," she tested with a curved eyebrow. Her heavily lidded eyes stared past him to Hermione as if she were the filth at the bottom of her shoe.

"She at least has more class than you to recognize such a vile word, but then again, I wouldn't expect much from your tongue. But yes mother, you should see us together-"

"Stop it!" Mrs. Black whispered anxiously. Just hearing her son mentioning the idea of him touching a muggleborn burned her very ears like the sun to an ant through a magnifying glass.

"Knowing I'm the last, perhaps the next generation of Blacks will be a proud mix," he boasted to her, raising his voice to draw attention to a few passers-by. The side of his mouth lifted as he prod further, elated that he'd finally found a straw to break mother camel's back.

Hermione stood frozen behind him. Fearful only to be brought into the conversation, but wary to act if needed. She did not wish to have this end in a heavier argument, but she was to remain on-alert in the event something goes off color. With instinct driving her thoughts, she slowly began to slide a hand to her jacket pocket where she kept her wand.

"You breeding with _that_ will only curse your blood more. I only hope that your genes carry on stronger, for they'll be hideous if they're half of this mudblood-"

"Excuse me?" Hermione piped up, after hearing the last of the stinging voice of the older woman. As quiet as she should have been, she could not let go of such an insult.

"It's all right, love," Sirius chuckled, keeping her behind him for her own good.

"Her appearance is shabby and disrespected. She'd make excellent stock if Araminta's muggle-hunting bill had passed. Too bad it never got a chance," she spiked. It was obvious that she was beginning to agitate Hermione more and more with every insulting word she spoke. "Truly Sirius, her days are numbered."

"As are yours!" Hermione snapped back. All of the vile woman's words were layering on, as if she were stuck in the painting at Grimmauld Place yelling rude profanities all over again. Sirius carefully acted as a barrier between the two women, but he was not worried. He feared that Hermione would hold her own, if she wanted to.

"It speaks out of turn and with confidence," Mrs. Black chuckled, amused that she'd struck a nerve. She waved her off like she was merely a fly in her presence to the two men that stood at either side.

"Out of turn and eloquently if I may boast. It has a name, but your type is incredibly undeserving to learn it," she added with certainty. The wheels were turning in her head faster than she could rationalize. "As for the nature of breeding, your greatest accomplishment ever achieved was this man," she pointed to Sirius as she stepped to his side. "So, I believe you've served your purpose!"

With a larger than life smile, Sirius turned his entire body to face Hermione and added, "Excellent, love! Well done."

"Sirius, how dare you allow her to talk to me with such freedom and with such vulgarity?" Mrs. Black swore at a raised temper. Her piercing eyes stared Hermione down with a silent death sentence. Hermione did not flinch.

"Are you kidding? I might just have to marry her after that," Sirius teased, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist and pulling her right up against him.

For a second, Hermione shied away, but then smiled once she saw the twinkle of thrill in Sirius's eye over her brazen tongue. She'd tried so hard to go unnoticed, but it was the way Sirius looked at her with absolute pride that she melted against him. As everything began to fade out around them, they could barely hear his mother leaving.

"Filthy girl, my son is disowned and dead to me..." her voice faded down the sidewalk as Sirius's Uncle Cygnus and his friend followed close behind, agreeing with every word.

Like a whisper in his hear he wanted to ignore, his mother's voice went on unnoticed as he was captivated with the enchantment he held tightly in his arms. So brash, so bold, so aggressive...she was his absolute match.

"You are..." he started to say, slowly releasing his grip on her to better stand before her, "my angel."

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I shouldn't have said anything, really. The kind of damage I may have just caused cannot be repaired-"

Like switching the volume off a muggle television, she was immediately cut off with a searing kiss. While he cradled her cheek in his palm, he ran his fingers lightly along the skin of her jaw. He tried to convey to her his deepest honest truth, that he was not at all upset with her rough words to his mother, but elated that he'd met another that wasn't afraid to stand up to her. Perhaps this was an awakening for them, for Sirius was reveling in the girl he'd thought he'd never wanted.


	20. Succumbing to the Inevitable

_A note from Serade Black_: _As always, your reviews do keep me going. Your theories and predictions help me and sometimes, they plant plot bunnies. So, keep them up! To K.A. you are one heck of an encouraging angel - because you did it! Thank you! I just say "onward" to you as I write this._

_For those HP-fanatics that might be going to Azkatraz in San Francisco, I hope to meet a few of you._

_For now, enjoy! ~SB_

Ch. 20 - Succumbing to the Inevitable

The light splashing of water over brightly painted dishes was almost too distracting, that Hermione hardly heard the doorbell ring. She immediately picked up her wand as it lay next to her on the counter and murmured a charm to allow the dishes and sponge to finish the few bowls left in the sink. She had been so preoccupied lately, that simple chores were beginning to get away from her, like cleaning dirty breakfast plates.

She swiveled around on her heel, her pale blue skirt floating around her knees as it caught the wind in her rushed steps. Her flats tapped along on the old wooden floor between the kitchen and the small living room like an eager tap dancing spider. Her haste had worked her up, so she found herself forcing a deep breath in order to calm down before opening the front door. She rolled her shoulders back, taking one more small breath and composing herself to not act so childish.

She bit her tongue and turned the old metal knob to reveal a vision she had yet gotten used to. Leaning on his elbow so that he could first catch a glimpse of her when the door opened a mere two inches, his head was bent low, his eyes looked up from under straying wild black locks. Dressed in blue jeans, dusty brown boots, black t-shirt and maroon velvet blazer, he was nothing short of a male model about to walk on the runway with a charming bit of roughness about him.

Losing herself in the senescence of him she sighed and by the sinister grin playing over his lips, she knew she didn't hide it well.

He took the liberty of allowing himself in and closing the door for her with a slight kick of his boot. He placed his hands on either side of her upper arms, gripping her gently as his eyes surveyed her innocent attire of off-white cardigan and floral top. Though her airy knees-length skirt would normally deem easy access if his naughty mind came into play more violently, he could only shake his head and chuckle under his voice.

"Sweetheart," he started with a slight shake of his head, noticing how hopeful she looked at him, "We don't match."

Before she had a chance to argue, he pulled her in so tight that her arms were forced to rest around his neck as he went in to kiss her like the cover of a romance cover. Enough to lift her onto her tippy-toes and take her very last breath from her lungs. She felt light as a feather and lost in a pleasant darkness with him; the sounds of the house around them were going completely silent until he pulled away from her to breathe.

"...and I like it that way," he concluded, releasing her ever so slowly.

Feeling Sirius's grip on her loosen was like feeling the seatbelts release at the end of a rollercoaster: relieved, but still a let down that makes you want to do it again.

Without stopping for a pint in the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius held Hermione's hand tightly, not taking the time to glance around and see if there were any of his past dates lingering around. The last time he stopped in there with her on such a night, she made him feel like a right git, but in the end, it was worth it. It paved the road for Sirius to believe that Hermione was truly interested.

Her thoughts strayed away to her own time. Visions of Sirius in his perfectly tailored threads of velvet and silk, lounging away in the study engulfed in a period drama of war and prejudice. Her thoughts lingered over the way their hands fit perfectly within each other, fingers sliding against the others'; a sly attempt at strolling intimacy.

Their steps fell in unison as they strolled up the vacant sidewalks the lined closed stores. A few tinkering sounds could be heard down the alley towards Knockturn, keeping them both on alert.

"Thank you for coming with me, again," he said, giving her hand a light squeeze.

"I had a nice time, last week. Thank you for inviting me," she added non-chalantly. Her eyes glanced down the dark path ahead of them looking for the swinging broken portkey.

Lately, his glances and stares were beginning to become more and more intense for him, that he almost questioned if she was quietly casting some insignificant spell that made him feel this way. But, when he was lying awake at night, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, he was secretly wishing that he wasn't alone in his big bed. His thoughts turned to prowling at the Leaky Cauldron or a nearby muggle bar he liked to frequent, to see if any of his past conquests had been lively that night, but then he soon realized he didn't want them...he wanted her. Or rather, he wanted them to be her. He wanted Hermione lying there with him, staring at the shadows on the ceilings. It was her bare warmth against him, the smell of her hair and the hypnotic scent of her perfume that fueled his desire for her.

Sirius stopped and turned to face Hermione properly, her hands in both of his. Like a chivalrous knight, he lifted the back of her right hand to his lips and said, "I guess I really want to say is that I'm glad that you are getting to know my friends." He tilted his head to the right, his long locks falling into his sightlines as he prepared himself to continue. "It's only been a short time and I know Remus secretly wishes that he had talked to you first or won you over with some thick encyclopedia, but that's neither here nor there. The thing is I enjoy you, Hermione. I enjoy being around you and please don't flip out when I tell you this, but I'm pretty sure I want to just know you...and not anyone else."

A train could have past behind them and still Hermione would remain unwavering. Like hearing music of the first time, she could only stare at him. Her fun-loving smile slowly sinking into a firm tight-lipped slight grimace that only meant that she was about to panic or run away screaming. Neither one happened, but the state of ease was slowly sneaking away. Her plan was beginning to bottom out and the idea of the _Oblivator_ spell was becoming more and more dire.

...and then she saw that special twinkle in his eye.

That little glistening sparkle that reminded her that Sirius was living for today and not for the rest of his life. He was an icon, an example to follow, to help her realize life was, indeed, too short and life did need to be experienced.

In all reality, she should have run the second he held both of her hands down by their sides and closed the small space between them so that they were sharing the same air. She should have never allowed herself to get wrapped up in him so much and she should not have ever allowed him to kiss her that night a week ago. However, she felt like she was spinning. As if she had thrown her arms out in the air and spun around in a circle, letting the wind lift up her skirt and the breeze blow her hair around in her face. She was closing her eyes, picturing herself floating in the air, never fearful to come down and that was when it hit her.

She was letting herself fall in love with him.

"Sirius, I can't be the right girl for you. That's insane," she suggested, feeling the warm stare of his piercing eyes sinking into her. "The idea of someone like you and someone like me-"

"Hermione, stop analyzing everything for one second. Just let it be," he said so simply. If only he truly knew what he was saying and to whom.

Touched by his sincere effort, she was finding it harder to make-up excuses without telling him the truth. She was already jeopardizing so much; it was almost like playing with matches in a pool of gasoline. Everything was going to come to a head and the outcome of Halloween would still happen, because she couldn't do anything to stop it. She couldn't stop the course of events.

Her shoulders were weighing heavy with thought and she looked away, noticing the rusting detail of a nearby drainage pipe. She almost didn't know what to say, other than the truth, so she colored it with subtle truths.

"Sirius, soon I'm going to have to go home. Back to...," she paused, her eyes meeting his and desperately thinking whether or not she should give it all away now, and save face. "...to America."

Sirius looked away, as if the word "America" was quickly becoming a word he didn't much care for. She tended to drop it around him too often, every time he wanted to get close to her. He squeezed her hands in his, signifying his concern and otherwise sheer annoyance to the reminder.

In silence, he let go of one of her hands, interlacing their joined one and led her to the hanging sign that was the portkey to the Tonks'.

Just like before, the two were transported into the lush garden behind the tattered old two-story house with purple shutters. Stars shone brightly overhead and the half moon illuminated the path up to the screened backdoor.

Without moving an inch, just like before, the backdoor flew open and an elated Andromeda met them with a big smile, enough to see all her teeth, including the filling in the back.

"Sirius! Made it another week, again!" she hugged her cousin tightly, leaving a small kiss on his cheek. Glancing past his shoulder, she was met with a quiet Hermione, but did not hesitate to give her just as warm a greeting. "Hermione, welcome back, love!"

Andromeda stepped back and allowed the couple to come inside, but reached for Sirius's elbow as he passed her after Hermione. Sirius stopped and kicked a foot up as if he was jerked backwards, but quickly reversed his steps as if he meant to fumble.

Once in earshot, Andromeda whispered, "Same girl, right?"

Sirius made a face, as if he was appalled by her accusation. Still, he answered her in a monotone voice, "Yes."

With a pleasing smile, she patted him on the back like a child and said, "Good man, I liked her. Muggleborn, right?"

"Yes."

"You always had good taste, well, at least most of the time you did. I like this one, though. Seems like a smart one. Probably too smart, but not smart enough to run the other way once you get hooked."

"Are we done?" he asked with a dreary tone, not wanting to be drilled and otherwise pretending to be bored.

"Yes, here's your beer, love," she charmed, putting a drink right into her cousin's hand as if it were a treat for putting up with her interrogations.

Hermione had just entered the same big living room as before. A young Nymphadora, Dora, sat curled up in the corner of the couch, with Peter Pettigrew sitting close by her side and reading along with her from a book that lay open in her lap. Both appeared to be quite captivated by the simple reading, appearing harmless and intrigued.

As Sirius came into the room, he laid a hand on the small of Hermione's back and said, "Wormtail mate, good to see you!"

"Hey Padfoot, just catching up on me reading," Peter said, nodding towards the book he and Tonks were sharing.

"You remember Hermione," Sirius re-introduced as he lightly rubbed her back. A sly possessive gesture in his nature.

"Of course, hello again, love," Peter responded, giving her a polite wave of chubby fingers.

Putting on the most pretend smile she could muster without squeezing her knuckles all the way white, she nodded back, "Nice to see you again, Peter."

The lighting in the room was slightly dimmer than before, a few lamp shades had been covered with scarves and the room smelled of scented candles, giving it a more intimate romantic feel about the evening. The contrasting smells wafting in from the nearby kitchen indicated that they were going to enjoy an Italian dish by the eroding scent of garlic.

"Hermione love, would you like a martini like last time?" Andromeda popped in alongside of Sirius. She already had the shaker filled and primed for a "yes" answer. Her bangle bracelets jingling along as she shook the canister.

First glancing towards Sirius and then back to Andromeda she politely smiled and shook her head, "Ah, no. Wine will be fine for me, tonight. Thank you."

With an unenthusiastic shrug she humored, "Oh well, suit yourself. More spirits for me, then!"

She disappeared back into the kitchen and Sirius followed behind her to fetch Hermione a glass of red wine. A normal looking, non ancient glass was returned to her with a deep burgundy liquid that looked harmless. She thanked her companion for getting it for her and sipped carefully along the glass rim, her delicate pinky up.

"What? You don't want your drink to inhibit your actions like last weekend?" Sirius asked, a light tease hindering in his voice. He couldn't resist the opportunity to slide a finger down her soft cheek.

With a slight tilt of the head she said, "No, because last weekend I was tricked."

Stepping in closer, he dipped his head so that his eyes peered up at her from under coy locks, "Oh, you were far from tricked, love. You gave in willingly."

"Only because I was cheated of a fair gamble by a right thief."

"A thief? You're throwing some severe words around there, young witch. Might have to teach you a lesson when I get you home," he teased, giving her a slight wink.

"Well, first one might watch their free tongue with empty threats. Second, I was cheated, but-"

"-you were not cheated!" he barked with a chuckle.

"Let me finish!" she finally chimed in, her free hand resting against his firm chest. "I was cheated, but who is to say that in the end, I didn't just let you win?"

"Because you wanted the prize?"

He'd read her mind and her white flag went up, "Perhaps, I did."

Like making a three year-old happy, Sirius grinned from ear to ear, quite pleased with himself. He looked away to swig his beer as he heard more people arriving through the backdoor.

James and Lily came in together, with James carrying the baby carrier proudly. Remus walked in right behind them, catching the door as it was swinging closed.

From the living room, Hermione could hear Remus's voice and instantly, Dora looked up from her book she was sharing with Peter and waited. Her eyes were fixed on the entry way leading into the kitchen, for she knew that any second Remus would emerge and she would see him.

Just as predicted, Remus came in through the archway wearing jeans, a few extra non fashionable rips, pale beige t-shirt and an unbuttoned sweater. His light brown hair looked windblown and dusty, but it was his smile that lit up the room. Such a sincere man that fell along with Sirius and James...and Peter, but mostly to keep an eye on them.

"Hello, Hermione," he politely said with a slight nod. "Good to see you back here."

"Well, he insisted I come along and I really couldn't say no," she explained, sipping from her wine glass.

"Yes, he's good at that. Nevertheless, it's nice to have another here. Lily was the last one to join us and well, look how that turned out," he said, glancing behind him to see Lily watching over Sirius as he ogled over the playful baby.

"Hi, Remus!" Dora called from across the room. It appeared that she hadn't stopped looking at him and was waiting for a good time to greet him. She was still pinned under the book next to Peter, who appeared to still be reading as it lay open in her lap next to him.

"Excuse me," Remus said as he walked away to sit on the arm of the couch next to her.

Hermione smiled to herself, watching the two make small talk as the third appeared strangely out of place. It was nice to see they had a friendship when she was young, making it all the more poetic later in their lives when they fell in love. It was starting to make more sense over Remus's initial disregard for their relationship. It would take time, but in the end they were going to grow more together than they even had a clue at this moment.

"Hey Hermione!" the Harry look-a-like said as he laid a hand on her shoulder as he passed by her, "Good to see he dragged you back here."

Hermione wasn't sure how to react with everyone's surprise, so she just shrugged her shoulders and thanked James, then Lily, for the welcome. They disappeared into a nearby bedroom to set down the baby carrier, that is if Sirius would stop toying at the baby long enough to let the small child go back to sleep after being poked and prodded by a tickling godfather.

"Let him sleep, Sirius," Hermione said, reaching out for Sirius's arm as he passed her in the baby procession. "The little one needs to sleep!"

Sirius was much obliged to stop at her request, finding a reason to step as close to her as she permitted without taking a step backwards. His eyes were set on her, his lips so primed and perfect, she was tempted to just reach for his shirt and pull him in, but she resisted.

"He has all the time in the world to sleep, love. I just don't want him to miss anything," Sirius said in a rather calm voice. Rather than just excited, the sound of his voice was sincere, like he truly meant what he said and not because it was his nature to be that geared up.

With a slight tilt of her head she smiled up at him, "He won't miss a thing, believe me."

They shared a single moment together in their own little world they were creating. Whispers, glances, hand holding and small kisses all remained a good basis for their foundation and it was moving faster than what either of them were ready for.

With a smirk and a wink, Sirius swigged his beer casually as he turned to follow his accute sense of smell towards the delicious scent of roasting potatoes, leaving her to her thoughts.

As her eyes lingered down his back frame until he disappeared out of sight, Hermione gave herself a mental shake as she gripped her wine glass tighter. More handsome than words could express in fitting denim and tight t-shirts, she could only stare against his throat to his black onyx necklace. His cologne reeked of wealth and good taste, making her knees shiver with the thought of him standing so close to her.

The man was becoming more and more difficult to resist and the more she thought about how much time she had, the more she felt it was racing against her. Just hearing his voice barking from the kitchen around her made her want to look at him, stare at him and then, irresponsibly throw herself into his arms so that he might make her feel like that all the time.

"Well, I give up for now. Thank you, Sirius!" Lily said carrying an empty baby carrier back into the living room. James followed behind her with a very alert and very awake one year old with big green eyes looking around at what he may have been missing.

"What did I do?" Sirius asked, coming back into the room and resting a hand on his hip as if he was surveying a sports game. "Did you bring him back so I could play with him, Lils?"

"No, Sirius," she shook her head exhausted. Her long red hair danced around her shoulders as she placed the carrier down on the floor by the couch at Remus's feet. "He won't go down and if he could speak full sentences, I'm sure he would say, "Mummy, why won't uncle Sirius just leave me alone and let me sleep, because I'm just over a year and I do need my energy."

Sirius chuckled, "No way, he'd say something along the lines of wanting to ride his first little motorcycle-"

"The hell he is! Not until he's thirty!" the overbearing mother playfully snapped.

With a nod towards James, Sirius mumbled, "We'll see." He leaned in close to Hermione's ear, "I'll have that kid on my bike before he's four, watch."

"I heard you," Lily warned, her own green eyes glaring at him with a slight smirk.

Andromeda came out holding a steaming martini glass with the same greenish colored liquid swilling around in her hand like one of Snape's potions finals. "Something I can help with? We could put a little gin in his milk, that will zap him right out."

"Mother!" Dora snapped, appalled at the very idea.

When she realized that all eyes, and grins, were on her Andromeda just shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand in the air non-nonchalantly, "Well, my father did it to me and I turned out all right!"

Once she had vacated the room, Sirius was the first one to speak up, "Yes, and I think we all know the lasting effects it had on my other cousins. Don't take the bottle if she gives it to you, Lily."

With a small giggle, Lily just shook her head and went into the kitchen to find a non-alcoholic beverage, with James quick on her heels to find one that was. Sirius turned and followed his friends, leaving Hermione alone to a sitting Harry.

Remus continued to read along with Dora and Pater. All three of them kept a watchful eye on Harry as he sat talking to himself on the floor saying "da-da" over and over again.

Meanwhile, little Harry had spotted Hermione and reached up for her to pick him up. Instead she hoisted him up on his unsteady little feet and knelt over to coo at him, as the he took insecure steps, already walking like a drunken baby. His pretty green eyes bore into her like she was more fascinating than a balloon and he continued his unsteady steps in her direction as she guided him along. His little hands wrapped around her fore fingers.

More advanced as usual, Harry soon let go of her fingers and walked on his own, showing sheer independency. He smiled and clapped as both she and Remus praised him, but ultimately his balance was teetering and he slid back on his cushy butt, looking up at her forlorn and otherwise disappointed in himself.

"Awe," Hermione cooed, taking pity on the small learning infant. She leaned over to reach under his arms to hoist him back up.

As she was situating her hands under his arms, her long chained necklace with the Time Turner at the end of it slid out from under her shirt, dangling for a full three seconds and catching Harry's eye. As if fire was about to burn the baby, she snatched it up quickly and tucked it back underneath her shirt, looking up to see if anyone noticed; her heart no longer beating.

Peter was still captivated by the pictures in the book, little Dora was reading along with him and pointing out the big words, but it was Remus who had seen the chain.

Like a deer in the headlights, Hermione was a bit uncertain how to continue, but with a chirping baby at her feet wanting her attention again, she was momentarily distracted. She glanced down at the baby and then back up at Remus who said nothing. He only smiled slightly and went back to reading along with Dora.

Her head started to feel like the blood was rushing upwards after her heart finally started to beat again; her pulse rate quickening to a dangerous speed. Harry was using her skirt to lift himself up, tugging wildly for her attention, but was distracted the second his mother returned with a fresh bottle. Sanctuary was coming to her and as she excused herself, Remus watched her turn and rush into the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" Sirius asked as she breezed past him in a whirl. He only caught a glmpse of her as she went out the screened backdoor, letting it slam behind her.

"Maybe she's just hungry. We'll eat in ten minutes, Sirius."

"Thanks, Dromeda," he said, setting his beer bottle down on the counter and following Hermione outside.

With a bang of the door behind him, Sirius stepped out into the humid cool night air. With rushing clouds over head, he peered out in the garden to find her. The wind was picking up around him, indicating that a storm was brewing. He looked against the dark evening, past the small gated garden that overflowed with exotic vegetables and flowers and out towards the maze that the two of them raced through.

To his right, he saw her walking slow in the wind, out towards nothing and into the empty field. It didn't appear like she was going anywhere; just slowly walking off whatever it was that had bothered her.

"Hermione?" he called out as he neared her.

She whirled around upon hearing his voice, not at all surprised that he'd followed her. She just needed to get away for a moment and think about all that was about to transpire, had Remus actually seen her Time Turner.

"Sorry, just needed a bit of fresh air. I'm fine," she lied. Her head was swimming with consequences. The pounding in her head of reality was disgruntled and distraught.

"Something happen, love? Harry get fresh in there with you?" he teased, reaching for her shoulder to rest his comforting hand.

His words brought a smile to his face, but she shook her head and looked down towards his brown scuffed up boots that peeked out from the bottom of his jeans, "No, just got a little overwhelmed."

"Oh, they're a right old bunch, they are. They're harmless, even Peter, who I know you don't care for much."

The wind rushed around them like a familiar blanket she knew too well - storm was brewing. Meaning, things were going to get rougher out there and she only had less than three weeks until Halloween.

"No, Sirius, he's fine. You just have a strong group of people that care very much about you and I hope you always know that," she began to reassure. Her mission was beginning to take its toll on her, but even she needed reminding of that.

"That's my family, love. I would die for any of them. Even if Dromeda wants to get Harry sauced up at a young age," he chuckled. This time he felt compelled to place both hands on her shoulders, so that he could rub down her arms and take her hands in his. A sly move when he wanted to pull a girl close to him.

"They really are-"

"Great, I know. You've said that, before. What's really wrong, Hermione?"

Like Eve to the apple, she was tempted to tell him everything that she knew. Tell him why she was there, that she didn't belong, that the way he held her hands would be so inappropriate in the future she wasn't sure where to begin. All that mattered was that Remus had seen her Time Turner and she now risked the gamble of staying and not being "outed" by him. It was a war in her head of whether or not she should confront him or just let it lie and see what pans out.

Regardless, nothing could prepare her for her position now. The way Sirius was exposing his sincere side that she'd never seen before. Only in the last minutes before he fell into the Veil did she understand his true side. How he wanted to not make mistakes, wanted to be there when needed and now, at twenty-one, wanted to know what plagued her mind more than anything and why she'd left one of the happiest places for him.

"Come back in, sweetheart. I can't begin to understand why you feel so overwhelmed, but just know that they are good people in there and I really want you to be a part of that with me."

Oh, he's so on the wrong track.

"It's fine, Sirius," she whispered. She knew the rules, confession was not allowed. "I just keep asking myself if I'm in the right place, sometimes." A trickle of honesty was beginning to come out masked.

"Sorry?"

She took a deep breath, her hands held tightly in his as she stood before him like a Prom date. Slowly, she was building the courage to meet his eyes again. "Do you ever feel like you want to go someplace, be somewhere, for the sake of good? But, when you get there, you begin to realize that you've made a grave mistake?"

"All right, I'm following. Kind of."

She smiled, but it was the sound of his lighter voice that gave her the confidence to look at him, "You really are something, Sirius. I hope you know that."

"Oh, don't worry, I do," he reassured, letting go to brush his hair from his eyes, but quickly replacing her hand.

"Not to mention incredibly modest, as well," she added.

"Oh, I'm humble-pie, love."

Soon, the nervous fluttering was beginning to suppressed itself with the stare of his piercing grey eyes; it was leaving her with the confidence that gave her a bit more courage. "As you get older Sirius don't let that get away from you."

"Why is that?"

"Because, it gives me the courage to do this," and in a blink she threw herself up against him, her arms tightening their hold around his neck and hanging on to dear life to kiss him the way she needed to.

Picturing them united as one, not an inch of space between them, Sirius held her tight against him as he took one supportive step back. He loved the way she initiated it, not giving it a second thought and openly offering herself in the worst way. Feeling the way her body seemed to feed off of him with desire and yearning was a song he seemed to be playing over and over in his mind. That warmth, that need, that confirmation that he had the power to convince her to stay with him and not go back...to America, was strengthening.

He kissed her back hard and unforgiving. His lips nipping at hers, his teeth grazing her just slightly and his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth like a seductive slithering snake wanting to taste her insides like she were the elixir of life.

"Dinner! Oh, sorry!" Andrromeda called out from the backdoor, but apologized at the first sight of their joint efforts together. "Well, it'll be ready when you are!"

They barely heard Andromeda's voice calling to them as they lapped at each other greedily. Wrapped up into each other like it was their last night on earth, they both relished in moment and basked in the cool wind at their heated intimacy.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips tearing against his feverishly.

"What for?" he managed. His hand was sliding dangerously down her waist.

"For getting involved with you," she mustered, running her fingers through his soft long locks. They fell through her fingers like silk and the sensation was just revving her up more. Her insides a forbidden fire.

"Oh, Merlin's Beard, don't be," he answered, almost exhausted. "I'm so glad that you did."

"This is wrong. We're so very wrong together," she breathed against him. She tried desperately to get closer to him, but any more and they'd need to be naked.

"I'm willing to change my ways," he confessed, hoping that she'd stop talking and move on with her traveling hands.

"Oi! Padfoot, come and eat! You two need your strength for whatever you're gearing up to do!" James hollered from the back door like an overbearing parent.

Abruptly, Sirius looked up and waved to his mate without the need for four of his fingers, signifying that he heard him and to leave them alone. His grip around Hermione was still tight, not wanting to let her go just yet.

"I want you to keep this train of thought for as long as you can, like until we get home," Sirius said, looking down at his witch with rose-colored lips that were plump and glistening.

Nervously, she shied away for a second, but then met him again, "You want me to break my vows of chastity?"

This time, Sirius paled before her and she would never forget the stunned look on his face when he believed her for at least seven seconds. It was a cross between discovering the greatest treasure in the world and fear.

The empowerment was strong, but she caved rather quickly, "Just kidding."

"Oh love, in once moment you made me feel absolutely euphoric and petrified at the same time," he confessed, slithering his hands low over her rear. "You are a wicked, wicked witch."


	21. So Little Time

_A note from Serade Black:__ Love everyone's theories, truly. They help to see if I'm coming across the way I want to, so keep them up! What does Remus know? Also, thank you for the note on the lack of raccoons. Also, I've been to The Forum in Camden Town (to see Bauhaus), it's since been changed to the HMVForum, so I was unable to see if it existed in 1981. Yes, I'm a patient passion writer. I'm a fan of "Hang on. We're getting there" romances, so thank you to all of those that have stuck by. As for the remarks on the titles, I have to throw you off somehow! Enjoy. ~ SB_

Ch. 21 - SO LITTLE TIME

"This Time the Dream's on Me" by Glenn Miller played loudly on the record player, crackling quietly to show the age of the record. Keeping a slow tempo, Sirius and Hermione remained to be the only couple next to Andromeda and Ted in the center of the living room. Swaying to the beat of the oboe solo, Sirius held Hermione close, but appropriate.

He had a hand placed low her back as his other hand cradled hers close to his chest. Her arm relaxed around his neck, her fingers lightly playing with the collar of his jacket. Together their foreheads were joined at the temples as both of them allowed themselves to be swept up in the tranquil moment of their dance. They were oblivious to everything around them, except for the company they kept. The world was at bay outside hidden windows and the wind picked up around the house, protecting them from the elements. Evil was lurking just over the horizon, Halloween was hovering over her and still, they couldn't be bothered.

James and Lily were packing their baby things while Peter was looking shifty, but really it was probably just indigestion from all the meatballs he had consumed. Remus was mostly quiet through the evening; at least he was towards Hermione. He'd shared a few quiet glances in her direction, but nothing more than small talk when they'd switch partners.

Hermione still couldn't help but feel slightly on edge. It did help that Sirius was at her side for most of the night; his presence around her offered a sense of peace in the nightly activities. Though it was never discussed what their next step was, for Hermione it was inevitable that she had succumbed to her own desired need. However, when she heard the ticking of a clock it was a sad reminder that the end was near.

As was the sweet coddling family of three standing by the doorway discussing private things over a slumbering, now very sleepy baby Harry. Lily was whispering low to her husband, glancing back at the remaining room guests and then back to James. With a wave of good night and a peck from her husband, Lily went out the back door and touched the fourth ceramic gnome on her right to go home by herself.

James returned to the living room, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He looked around the room to his three best mates and opened his arms, "Pub?"

"No way!" Sirius barked; his ears perked like someone had just blown the silent dog whistle.

"Absolutely, Padfoot. Lily said I need a night out with the boys, so I'm taking the offer and running. Who's with me?"

At first Sirius beamed with excitement, as if mischief was twinkling in his eye like a long lost friend. But, as he remembered whose back he was lightly scratching, the twinkle went to a dull shine and he glanced over at his date.

Hermione looked back at him stunned; surprised that he was watching her carefully and hopeful. She hadn't thought of it from their prospective, just her own sheltered one that didn't appear that she was Sirius's current standing girlfriend. At least, in their eyes she was. Parting her lips and looking around the room as if all eyes were on her, even Andromeda's, she broke into a smile.

"You don't have to ask me, Sirius." she said, as if her opinion truly did not matter.

He leaned over so only she could hear and with a definite nod, he said very clearly, "Yes, I do."

His intensity was almost too much for it was obvious to him that her opinion did matter. _She _mattered to him. Her presence next to him, the way he held a hand on her shoulder, her back, his look and his overall possessiveness around her was beginning to help her deduce that she was, suffice it to say, his _girlfriend_.

In a blur, Sirius took her home, kissed her good night three times, and left her to go out pubbing with the guys. The original Marauders back together, prowling around London and different wizarding parts that even she hadn't discovered yet.

Meanwhile, she was still standing in the foyer of Professor McGonagall's house absorbing what all had transpired that evening. Her brain had felt like it had been put into overdrive, performing damage control and preparing herself for more of her mission to become exposed. Like the rewind button on a film, the scene in which her Time Turner slipped out of her blouse and dangled in front of Harry long enough for Remus to see it kept replaying over and over in her head. She remembered the way he looked at her after she tucked it away and the lack of conversation from Remus. His silence was beginning to make her anxious.

But, on the upside of all dark things, she was realizing why she hadn't pulled the plug on the entire thing. Sirius. Young Sirius and the potential that he still existed in the Sirius she knew in her own time. What he liked, what he didn't like, the way he dressed, the way he thought, all of these things were the seed of what he was back at home. Granted, time and prison had taken its toll on him, but there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy life again the way he used to. And with her help.

Hermione changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed. She left a window open in the guest room she slept in, to hear any outside sounds, including that barking dog that seemed to give her more peace at night. On the second floor, she felt safe with having it open as the clouds began to come in more and more, indicating that the storm wasn't too far behind or that evil was strengthening not too far away. Regardless, the end was near for said evil for the first around, even at the cost of a good young family, trust and an innocent man's life.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Here ya go, love," Sirius said as he left some muggle money on the bar. He couldn't resist a wink to the older bar mistress with the long graying hair.

He managed to balance four mugs of beer frothing over their tops in two hands, wishing that he could take out his wand and carry them properly. He maneuvered around some vacant chairs, finally reaching the table with Peter, Remus and James all sitting and watching him while they were on the brink of cracking a smile. Setting the beers down in the center, a small bit splashing over, each wizard reached for one as Sirius surveyed the dodgy muggle bar.

"I dunno James," Sirius began as he fell into the worn out chair with a thud. "This has got to be the shadiest muggle pub you've taken us too, yet." He shook his head and reached behind to take his wand out from his back pocket to tuck it safely into the inside pocket of his jacket, "And that's coming from me!"

"Why do we come to these, again?" Peter asked while taking a sip of his beer and leaving a white mustache on his upper lip from the foam.

"Lily thinks it's safer to go to unknown places, but really I think the number of supporters on our side is up. If anyone were to truly try anything, I think more witches and wizards than you think would step up," James said, licking his upper lip so that he didn't look like his mate that sat across from him still oblivious.

"Speaking of witches-" Sirius started before his company erupted into a circle of groans, each slapping the table hard with their fists.

"Who had three minutes with a beer?" James looked to Remus and Peter; his palm open and curious.

"What's that?" Sirius whined as the three men continued to groan and shake their heads.

"We each had a wager," James began, "How long it would take before you started to talk about your bird. Remus had less than five minutes, I guessed that you would wait until we were ready to leave and Peter just said, 'what bird'. Sorry mate!" James then reached into his pocket and handed over two galleons to Remus's winning open hand.

"Sirius, the next round is on me, mate," Remus said with a smirk, pocketing his money.

"Oh, you gits!" Sirius barked, slumping down in his chair defeated. He reached for a peanut and chucked it across the table at Remus.

"Sorry mate, you made it too easy. You never talk about witches, and then when you get a good one, you start opening up. It's just your nature," James excused, patting his friend on the back, trying to win him over.

Sirius nodded, hating to admit it was a good joke on his behalf, but pretended to remain buttoned-lipped about any future "feelings".

"No, Sirius, go on. You seem otherwise befuddled by this witch, go on," Remus suggested, eager to hear Sirius's take on her.

Sirius rested his elbows on the table, his hand still on the handle of his beer mug, "I don't know, it's just that this witch is..."

"Different?" Remus asked, his eyebrow curved and curious.

"Very. I can't place it, but it's nice. It's not a normal formula for me-"

"-We know."

"-We've noticed."

"-No kidding."

All three of them chimed in with their own opinions at the same time that Sirius was almost afraid to continue. He was also afraid that he might take his wand back out and hex one of them if they said something smart again.

"Anyway, I guess I'm asking if...if it's normal...to fall in love with a girl even if you haven't..."

"Shagged her?" Peter chirped, trying to add his two cents.

"Nice, Wormtail," Remus drawled, giving his friend a side glance.

"Well, that too," Sirius added, not totally taking out Peter's answer. It was just that he was finding it difficult to finish his train of thought; his mind was a mental mess. He was truly opening up to his closest mates to an unfamiliar territory that they'd only gone through with James a few years ago. "I just haven't felt like this before and I have to admit that it's so foreign to me that I'm not quite sure what to do with it. It's all very consuming."

James nodded to Sirius, wishing for words of wisdom to come to him but instead he relied on the good old faithful toast, "Well brother, I don't know what we can tell you on that. So, here's what I can do. To Sirius. May he find the right way to go, so that he can finally make sense of his bird."

"Cheers," they said in unison, knocking back most of the contents of their chilling mug.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She was deep into a sleeping trance, her bed covers tucked under her arm. Her face turned more into the soft pillow as she dreamt deeper and deeper, letting her body take a lighter shape in the bed that she slept in. Feeling as light as a feather, her sanity grounding once more, she barely felt the bed shifting next to her. Her slumber began to lighten, but she did not open her eyes. Soon, she felt an arm snake under hers and hold tightly against a slender body that lay above the covers behind her...

Sirius sunk against her, the outline of her body under the covers his guide. The casing comforter was puckered protectively around her like the wake of an ocean. She was a near perfect sight to observe, wishing that the darker parts of his erotic story told a different tale.

He had removed his boots downstairs so she wouldn't hear him coming up them and his jacket was thrown over the vanity stool. The rest of him was, regrettably, clothed and restrained in denim. But, he was still able to enjoy the sensation of she being spooned close, her back to his chest. His hand curled over hers as he nestled his face into her soft wavy locks that pooled around her head like an angel.

The gentle caressing from his nose and chin around the back of her neck made Hermione rouse just a bit out of a deep slumber. Still not opening her eyes, fearful that her dream would be lost, the only indication that she knew it was Sirius was with a slight tilt of her head to encourage him to keep on feather kissing her exposed neck and shoulder.

The breeze blew in from outside, cooling her skin where he'd just kissed making her shiver. He hugged her tighter, the cotton of the comforter and sheet their only chaperone.

"How did you get in?" she whispered dazed. She still had not completely awoken...

"Your back door was open," he calmly answered.

With a sweet knowing smile, she remembered the doggy-door and whispered, "Liar."

With a deep sigh against her neck, nothing would make him want her more than to have her know what he really was. "You're right," he started, his lips pressed against her skin as he spoke but moved to gently nip her earlobe as he whispered into it, "I'm an Animagus."

Her dream was taking her beyond reality and with fluttering eyelids she just answered, "I know."

Smiling more for himself, Sirius left three more small kisses on her neck before nuzzling his nose into her hair to drift off to her fresh scent of jasmine and midnight air.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The sun's warm rays basked the room with light by mid-morning. Through the nearby window, two small birds chirped their song in hopes of carrying on a steady conversation. In the distance, a dog could be heard barking from its backyard and that's when the guest in McGonagall's house started to stir.

Hermione turned her face into her pillow, taking in the fresh clean scent of laundered linen. She could remember her enticing dream vividly. Sirius had come inside the house through the doggy door after he had transformed into his Animagus form. He then came up the stairs and slid onto the bed next to her, spooning her tight and close. Not once did he move from holding her, as if she were a favorite pillow one would sometimes hug. He left slow light kisses under her ear and they shared a few sentences between one another. He also confessed his talent, but in her half slumbered state acknowledged that she already knew that.

She loved the smell of him around her, loved the way he delicately held her, and loved the way he felt so real around her body in the middle of the night. Her skin felt so alive, her heart was beating at a strong romantic pace and the way her eyes fluttered as she pictured him in her mind looking at her through his hanging black locks was enough to almost believe that he was real.

Hermione stretched her arms above her head like a large cat that had napped all day on the couch. She yawned wide and closed her eyes in her mental stretch. She pushed the covers off her body and sat up with her feet dangling over the side of the bed. Just as she was about to get up, something caught her eye in her peripheral vision and she glanced over at the vanity table by the door.

Still bundled together, bound by a beautiful black ribbon with silver threading was a deep red bouquet of freshly cut roses. They weren't placed in a vase, not packaged in a box by a florist, but just wild, picked and bound up with a delicate bow. They lay neatly across her table so that she could not miss them. They were so stunning that Hermione's lips parted long enough to believe that perhaps it wasn't a dream. Maybe Sirius was really there lying next to her and then gone before the sun had come up.

_Just wow._

That entire afternoon, Hermione stayed in. She glanced up at the clock as it chimed four times, echoing in the hallway with the capacity of Big Ben. Around her she had miscellaneous books and notes, some on the Time Turner journey she was on, some on the aftermath of ripples in time and one very heavy romance novel she felt she needed a little inspiration from. Of course, that was honestly just a guilty pleasure and the idea of anyone having sex on a hilltop with no one to see them was just unheard of. However, the sneaking curiosity of whether or not the logistics of having sex on the back of a motorcycle could ever be achieved plagued her mind whenever she wondered where Sirius was and why he hadn't owled her by now.

Her Quick Quotes Quill hung above her notebooks waiting to dictate, but as her mind began to drift elsewhere, it took the liberty of tickling her nose to put her back on track.

She rubbed her nose immediately, "Okay, okay! Hey, you haven't even been invented yet, so behave. Where was I? Right...it's been proven that a sudden reaction to electricity can-" her voice stopped in mid sentence as she heard a mechanical rumbling coming up the street. It got louder and soon it abruptly stopped in front of her house. She immediately tossed her book to the side, grabbed her Quill to hide it in her bag and stacked some books away as quickly as she could. She knew that engine, she knew those tires stopping and she knew his keys jingling into his pocket.

Hermione flew to the front door, taking a moment to glance in the mirror to give herself a once over. Without hesitation, her heart beating faster, she threw open the door to see him just coming up the steps and taking no time for a greeting. He pushed himself through the threshold and took her face in his hands to come at her like a man that hadn't drank water in days.

Quenching his need for her, he kissed her long, deep and hard and all Hermione could do was let him.

Her arms were beginning to feel as weak as flower stems, hanging to her sides limp like she had no will to move. She managed to muster enough strength to lift her hands to slide up thin leather jacket and grip them as a last defense. She could smell his musty scent of outside air on him from his ride and his feathery long locks tickled her cheeks. Even though she knew in the back of her mind she breaking so many rules...to hell with them. She missed him!

Finally, air was no longer a second thought and she pulled away, still gripping onto his jacket and he still holding her tight in his clutches.

"Where have you been?" she asked with a light voice. Seeing him made her heart flutter without even giving it a second thought. It was inevitable.

"Busy. Ran into an old friend by surprise," he smiled as he looked down at her. He tilted his head back further admire her smiling up at him. It warmed his insides greatly that she was pleased to see him.

"Why didn't you stay this morning? I woke up and you were gone - you were here, right?"

He smiled and nodded, "Yes, of course I was. Why? Did you think-"

"-I thought I had dreamt it," she finished for him.

"Oh, well," he knocked his head back cocky, "I've been known to be quite a dream, they say."

"Oh, there you go again with that modesty."

He sniffed proudly, "A trait I hope to carry on my entire life."

She nodded back, "Oh, don't worry, you will."

He leaned in to kiss her again before finally closing the door with a swift kick of his boot. "Anyway, get your bag. I've got a surprise for us tonight and we've got to stop by my place to get ready."

Hermione glanced down at her notes and saw that her work was hastily scattered all over the coffee table. She went ahead of him into the sitting room, going about closing notebooks and stacking up heavy ancient encyclopedias that Sirius would probably shrug off anyway, but it was the principle of the point that she didn't need any more exposure than what she may have already risked. It was just that morning when she was thinking back of the dream she thought she had, realizing that it had been real, that Sirius had told her he was an Animagus. Her foolish half-asleep reply was that she knew. She needed to be more careful in the next couple of weeks.

"What's the surprise?

"Well, I was cruising through Camden today, that's where I usually buy my band t-shirts, and I heard this awful racket. I asked a few nearby what it was, the muggles of course, and they just told me that The Forum was undergoing some inside repairs. Then I got to thinking, I only know one group that takes over a theatre for a night and then jumbles the owner's memories...The Hobgoblins," he said, expecting a huge reaction by his elaborate storytelling.

Hermione drew a blank, but then remembered reading something about the lead singer, a turnip, and a fan, "Wait, you mean Stubby Boardman's group? But, I thought they-"

"Disbanded, yes!" he said with more enthusiasm. "Stubby was a bit freaked out about that turnip thing, but he's right with it now." He was like a child on Christmas morning telling how he saw Santa Clause. "So, I pulled up and went in."

Hermione wasn't too impressed, but the way he lit up with excitement just elated her. She had no choice but to act surprised, even if the Hobgoblins were before her time.

"Well, Stubby saw me and it was like old times, again."

"You know Stubby Boardman?" she asked, a hand on her hip and a finger pointing as if she believed he was pulling one over on her. She recollected a story in the Daily Prophet about a fan that claimed that Sirius was actually Stubby Boardman and that's why he was innocent of the Potter murders.

"Yes. _Now _you're impressed aren't you?" he played. Her lack of excitement was a great disappointment at first, until he got to the heart of the issue. "Showed no interest in it until I said I knew him, did ya?" He walked passed her to sit down on the couch, his feet thrown on the coffee table and his arms behind his head looking quite relaxed and arrogant. He was glistening with the knowledge of knowing a celebrity.

Hermione couldn't help but let off a little laugh, enough to see that he really was milking the issue. He was adorable with the way he snubbed his nose at her and pretended to file his nails on his shirt.

"Sirius, really?"

"I do know him, he's an old friend. We used to chase muggle girls together-," he stopped, catching himself. His fingers no longer filing, but his eyes glancing up at her for potential damage control. "I mean, we used to share the same interests!"

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and nodded knowingly, "Right. So, what's the rest of the story?"

He grinned and winked, "That's for another time. Anyway, Stubby is having a private concert tonight and said that he tried to find me, but I'd moved from my old place - James's - and lost my floo address. He was so chuffed I was riding by that we had a couple of beers and then he dragged my ass to the guest list and made them put my name down with a guest."

"And you're not taking James or Remus?" she baited with a raised eyebrow. She still loved the fact he was trying to look so arrogant, as if he were balancing a crown over his big head.

Sirius scowled, "No way. They don't like that sort of music; it's too hard for them. They're not into that punk scene. But, no, the rule with Stubby is that I'm always on his guest lists, always VIP passes, I can get my mates in, but I must always have a girl with me." He winked again and bit his lip. His boots wiggling excitedly, "Just his rules, not mine."

Hermione slowly grinned as she was getting to the bottom of the plan, "His rules, huh? Okay, well I hate to break it to you, but I'm not really that familiar with the Hobgoblins."

"Not familiar with the Hobgoblins? Where have you been, love, under a rock? They're only the biggest wizarding band of all time," he was utterly shocked that she did not know their music as well. "What do you listen to and if you say Celestina Warbeck then there is no way I'm putting out later."

Hermione went stiff with the very idea, not that it hadn't been on her mind all day that day, especially with the question of the motorbike fantasy, but her cheeks started to blaze.

"Ah, there's my Rose, again!" he said, standing up.

Hermione sensed that he was about to tease her further, enough to back away slowly and consider running out the door. The look in his eye was that of a playful tiger about to spring and she held her arms at bay.

"Am I making you nervous?" he innocently played. The sound of her giggling was enough to bait him more, luring him into her as she backed away cautiously.

"Sirius, stay! Don't come any closer," she playfully threatened. She secretly harbored the tease of the chase, hoping that he would follow her, but her nerves got the best of her and she took off running around into the kitchen where she felt him close on her heels and within his grasp.

"Granger, you can't get away," he barked taking off after her as she aimed for the backdoor he knew too well by the doggy-door installed near the floor.

She screamed with laugher as she managed to get the backdoor open and dashed down the few steps to the secluded garden surrounded with a tall white fence, where wild flowers grew and butterflies made their homes. She glanced behind her when she realized that her space was limited and trying to escape through the backdoor had not been a well thought out plan.

When she reached her dead end, not too far from the backdoor, she turned around and pushed her back against the wooden fence. Her arms were in front of her, a meek attempt to protect her from whatever he was coming in to do. A pathetic attempt at a game gone wrong, but secretly desiring him to just pick her up and ravage her there. At least, that's what those romance novels were encouraging her to wish.

His big grin was mischievous, his eyes a dark twinkle and as he closed the space between them, his hands extended around her to pin her to the fence. He closed her in, pressing her against the wooden fence and with no place to go but back against him. He purposely pressed his belt buckle against her stomach, showing her that she was teasing the wrong man. He'd played her game until now, pinning her defenselessly between a wooden barrier and himself.

"I love the game you want to play, love," he said darkly with a low hungry voice like the Big Bad Wolf. He was tainted with enticement, knowing that his objective was not to really frighten her, but to make his intentions clear. "However, after so long, the mean dog might need to get his just reward."

Hermione's breath escaped her. There was not one piece of her that was scared, only tempted. His aura was so strong; it encompassed her like a steel cell with nowhere to go. His walls were closing in on her and she welcomed it. She welcomed him. The secret desire for him that she was trying to suppress was seeping out like water through cracks in a dam. At first they were contained, governed, but soon the wear on her was beginning to weaken and the slow seduction he had played for her all this time was beginning to win, leaving her in a frazzled emotional mess.

"I love to hear your voice, but I love it even more when I've driven you speechless," he growled, the closeness of his lips teasing her like drugs to a recovering addict. He would come in close to kiss her, but as she went in, he would pull away to tease her, never touching her lips.

"Sirius..." she couldn't say anything more. The air around her was thin and it made her mind spin uncontrollably. The anticipation of a kiss was breaking her down, forcing her to restrain herself from being irrational. However, her need for him was ever increasing.

"I get a warm chill every time you say my name, love," he whispered as if it were a hidden secret only for her. "You emphasize every syllable in all the right places that makes my name sound so perfect, that I only want you to say it. It jives me to a new depth that even I question it." His need for her was beginning to reach dangerous levels.

She was absolutely melting there before him as he pinned her against the wooden fence in the middle of the day with only the flowers and butterflies as their witnesses. How he could make a fall day so erotic was beyond her, but it would make her look forward to this season in the future.

"I love to see your cheeks blush when I flirt with you," he continued. His voice made his words sound like an enchanting spell she could not deflect.

"You are," she started; her voice sounded like a mouse about to sing before clearing her throat. "You have been the only one that's been able to do it."

His alluring lips pulled into a rather pleasing smirk. His eyes darted all over her face as if small sparks were going off in his head that he had finally neared the finishing line of winning his personal challenge with her. Far from the test of his own self-assurance, he had discovered that his old ways of luring a girl weren't exactly the way he should have gone in order to produce such spectacular results. Hidden behind stacks of books, notes and knowledge was a precious jewel in his eye that made him rethink his normal stereotype girl he thought he wanted. Had he known then, what he knew now, he would have looked for girls in the library and not at James's old quidditch after parties.

He moved in slowly and cupped his hands around her neck to keep her still to leave a single, solid kiss against her waiting lips. Keeping it simple and intense, it wasn't necessary to slip his tongue, just a passionate, warm erotic kiss that left the two of them absolutely dazed and wanting.

"Get your things, love," he whispered, nearly out of breath himself. "We have to go."

The Big Bad Wolf was letting Little Red Riding Hood go.

Nodding, she quietly slipped out of his grasp like both of them were absolutely bewildered to do anything else and she left him alone to his thoughts. Both of them needed space, believing they had just wrapped themselves so tightly around one another that it was almost too much for one moment. This was what passion was. This is what literary geniuses wrote about when it came to love and this, sadly, is what people died for. And as far as they got was with a single still kiss.

_She was doomed._

In a blink, Hermione ran upstairs to freshen up. She had no idea what to wear for a Hobgoblins concert, hearing Sirius say it was "punk", so she settled on a tank top, hoodie, blue jeans and her Converse trainers. Simple, but basic and not time revealing.

She returned downstairs, swinging around the banister and looking about the sitting room to see if he'd come back inside yet. He had, but he was standing in the little cottage kitchen, hovering over her open book bag. His shoulders had slouched and he appeared to be looking at something he held in his hand.

"Sirius?" she asked warily, her breath shallow. She was worried that he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

In his fingers he had a picture. It must have been something that had fallen out as she was quickly stacking her books. His eyes were transfixed on it, his face was emotionless and far from the passionate animal she saw lingering before her in the back garden.

"Is this him?" he asked, slowly lifting his head and handing her the picture. His voice was sad almost, sorrowful even.

With big eyes and a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow, she hesitantly reached for the picture. Not as bad as she had anticipated, but she now was holding a picture of her standing behind Ron, with her arms draped around his shoulder. A picture taken a few years ago, when they were happier, but it was obviously recognized as a loving couple picture with the way the two laughed and smiled. It must have been being used as a bookmark in one of her books she had overlooked.

Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, hoping to lighten his thoughts. He slowly walked passed her, a forlorn look was pasted on his face.

"Ah, yes," she nodded, staring at the picture having not seen it for a long time. She reflected for a moment that the picture was taken in much happier times and this just a mere shadow of it. Still, she tucked it deep down in her bag, not ready to tear it up yet. After all, she and Ron still remained to be friends.

"You look really happy," he said solemnly. There was a hitch in his throat that sounded quite disappointed and let down.

"I was," she added, looking away. How was she to explain it?

He shook his head as he paced a few steps away from her, before turning around. He wondered if he even deserved to feel what he did just a few moments ago. Like his head was just beginning to come above the surface and he could breathe again, he would cherish fleeting moments like the one he just experienced in the back garden of Professor McGonagall's house.

"If I took you away from something good, please tell me. It's not like me - actually, it is like me, but in this case, I don't want it to be."

Hermione stilled, her eyes unable to meet his. She felt like a big spotlight was hovering over her, displaying all her flaws and making her feel so out of place; she could say nothing.

"Sirius, I..." she was unsure how to say exactly what she meant. So, she stuck to the truth, "You didn't take me away from anything. He and I...we separated awhile ago and you...you just helped me see a little bit more clearly."

Hearing what he wanted brought a small bit of peace to mind. Allowing him the strength to look at her and not with guilty eyes. "I hope so, because-"

"But, in truth-" she cut him off.

Her eyes stared nervously at her hands in front of her. Even though she wanted so badly to be with him and enjoy those close intimate moments every chance she got, she couldn't help but let the picture of she and Ron plagued her thoughts. Having nothing to do with their actual relationship that lasted over three years, but allowing it to be a reminder that this was not her time. She was not allowed to feel what she felt towards Sirius, because he was a different man. The same in some aspects, yes, but the very idea of the two of them together now would hurt terribly in the future. How could she allow herself such carnal pleasures now, if in the future, they would have to go about their lives separately? What good would it do if she tasted the forbidden fruit, never to have it again? Would she allow herself such a painful luxury? Knowing what it would be like to fall in love with him, possibly have him love her back and then in the future they go about the house, their lives, knowing what could never be? Who would want to take that gamble?

"But, what, love?" he asked. His voice reminded her that she was still standing there with him, the younger version of him.

"But, I don't think I'm what you're looking for. I'm not who you think I am."

Seeing her mouth falling into the same disappointed frown he first held when he first saw the picture, made him walk back to her. Smelling her perfume was easily luring him back in again, to a frame of mind he had forgotten about for the last few minutes, but was quickly coming back full force. He raised a hand to cradle her cheek and then slid it down around her throat.

"Are you just a figment of my imagination?" he asked, his thumb sliding along her jaw line.

She shook her head as she lifted her eyes to his, "No."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Are you secretly plotting to tear off all of my clothes?"

Her lips curved into a smile and she had to lie, "No."

"Then you are so very right. You're not at all what I'm looking for."

_She needed to fall._

Even if it meant never having it again.


	22. A Change of Character

_A note from Serade Black: Thank you for the reviews, they are encouraging. Also, if the translation is wrong, please forgive me. I used an online program for it. In the future, my higher rated chapters will be noted for those that want to read the uncut versions. Enjoy! ~SB_

Ch. 22 - A Change of Character

There was a dull buzzing in the air and it was not from the motorcycle that they sat on like a galloping steed. Something euphoric had come about them, filling to max capacity and it could only be amounted to sincere content. A final knowing, or rather a final knowing of wanting desire.

Through the streets the tires of the motorcycle soared on ground level, passing cars at red lights, muggles in crosswalks and defeating laws of gravity on tight turns. The wind was in their hair as they looked ahead together, watching the lights turn green as if clearing the path just for them.

Sirius rode his bike like a true commander. He was in complete control, knowing how it could handle nearly anything. With both hands on the handlebars, his shoulders remained relaxed as his precious cargo clung to him not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. He knew with the way her arms wrapped around his chest that she was doing more than just hanging on, she was holding him. He would see in his peripheral her chin resting on his shoulder or feel her cheek pressed against his back, as if hugging him was just making the journey easier for her.

She was beginning to grow accustomed to this mode of travel, but it was the idea of being on it with him. Far from the day when he held onto her hips and they soared together over Hogwarts on the back of a Hippogriff, her feelings then were unknown. She found peace in the gentle rumbling of the engine between her legs, pushing herself just a little closer against him so that the vibration could be shared or lessened.

Whatever it was, it was strangely erotic to find the courage to not need him to prevent falling off. She bit her tongue to bask in the desire to let go of his waist and allow her hands to travel around his denim thighs. Afraid her balance would be off, she managed one hand still around his waist, her chin on his shoulder, and that free hand to slide over his thigh with a gentle squeeze. She felt the murmuring of a growl as she leaned against him, encouraging her to touch him any way she wanted.

They pulled into number 24, the gate covered with overgrown vines with flowers, unveiling the worn driven drive that Sirius had turned in and out of frequently. The gate closed on its own once they were safely on the other side. Sirius stopped his motorbike, turned the keys out of the ignition and helped her off with an extended hand.

"Now why are we here, again?" Hermione asked, swinging her leg off his warm motorcycle. Her legs were still slightly numb from riding.

Sirius swung his keys around his finger as they walked together hand-in-hand. As they reached the stairs, he leaned over and took his wand from his boot.

"Alohamora," he said, letting the door swing open for the two of them to pass through. "We can't go in this. We'll stick out."

Hermione spun around to face him as he walked passed her down the hallway and ahead of her to go into the kitchen. His boots echoed off the hardwood floors, practically announcing his arrival home. When he went ahead of her, she couldn't help but let her eyes scan down the rear of him, letting her eyes flutter shamelessly.

"You expect me to wear your clothes?" she asked, not quite sure what Sirius meant.

He turned around to walk backwards in front of her, "No, I have some things for you. First, we have a beer."

"No beer for me, thanks. What could you possibly have for me?" she chuckled, walking around the center island of his kitchen. She leaned over the counter on her elbows as her head tilted curious.

"You'll just have to go up and see. Wine, then?" he asked as he went around the opposite side of the island counter. He was already opening his refrigerator to take out a bottle for himself, swinging himself around to inquire about the wine.

She nodded, "Red, please."

After a toast, Sirius led Hermione up the stairs to the second floor. The stairs were carpeted with a dark mahogany Berber, but the wood underneath still creaked its age. Deep cherry wood with an elaborate curl at the end made the railing, adding an aristocratic flair to it that still showed his pureblood royal taste. Hermione slid her hand up the soft wood, carrying her wine careful and steady. Overhead an antique chandelier hung with romantically dripping candles almost as enchanted as Hogwarts.

Once they got to the top, they turned left to go down the long narrow hall opening up to at least four more bedrooms. Along the walls, still prints of muggle photography hung almost making the home decor look more muggle than wizard. Surely something he was trying to get away from - the prejudice muggle hating.

He opened up the first door on the right to a very simple guest room with pale blue walls, a small double bed with a gorgeous comforter and accented pillows in silver and red. The windows were draped elegantly in sheer panels, hiding their privacy, but allowing a fair amount of sunlight to seep in on brighter days.

Sirius set his beer down on the guest bureau and went over to a tall dark wooden wardrobe, opening up the doors with the flourish of a staged muggle magician.

"Surely, you can find something in here," he said, taking a few steps back to allow her to see the row of choices.

Inside the wardrobe, several types of women's clothes hung from the most sophisticated suits to barely there mini skirts and tube tops. There were enough choices there that it was almost a mystery that maybe a woman had been living there and he wasn't exactly being honest.

Hermione's eyebrows rose, as if she was almost wondering if Sirius kept a darker secret that even she didn't know years from now. She sipped her wine timidly, guarded almost, letting her eyes go from the wardrobe and then back to Sirius who stood there unknowingly with his beer as if he were admiring a strange collection.

"Um, something I should maybe know?" she asked curiously. His look of interest was concerning her.

It took an entire full four minutes before Sirius's mind got back to her train of thought. At first he stared blankly at her, innocent almost, like a child unaware of color. Then, his eyes bulged and his face cracked into a humored smile with bright white teeth as if he was totally submerged in ignorance.

He was swallowing as he shook his head, his fingers splayed before him in denial, "No, no, love! These aren't mine, they were left behind."

"Left behind? By whom?"

He cleared his throat nervously and tilted his head back to clear the stray locks that had fallen in his face, "I can't remember all their names to be honest, but it was only about three or four of the same ones. Whatever, it doesn't matter now." He said, trying to divert the attention off him and back onto her selection of clothes. "You go in there and pick out something to wear."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing, honestly?" she asked with a hand on her hip, following him to the doorway of the guest room she stood in. His hints weren't as clear as he so confidentially assumed.

He spun around once in the doorway, his face alight and his voice exhausted with enthusiasm, "Darling, the Hobgoblins! Right, you have no clue," he remembered. "It's punk love. Good old fashioned punk. In muggle terms, think of the Clash or Sex Pistols. Now you get it?"

"Sirius, I don't know if this is really going to be my thing," she said a little worried. The most daring thing she had in her closet at home was a rather fitting Chudley Cannons shirt she got as a present...from Ron.

"Look love, you don't really have a say in this. Stubby put me on his guest list and I need a date," he leaned in to kiss her quickly. "So, get undressed!" he added with a swift pat on her rear as he left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with the wardrobe.

Hermione stared at the thick oak door acting like a portcullis in a castle. She was trapped and she wasn't able to leave until her attire was changed and her inner punk, where that may be, had come alive and inspired. As she turned around to face the wardrobe, the thin tattered lingerie a bit on the intimidating side, she overheard Sirius humming down the hallway singing the lyrics, "Now I wanna....be your dog!" quite loudly.

A half hour had passed and Hermione was alone with her thoughts, and in the midst of several discarded clothing that had been tried on, taken off, tried on again and then finally thrown back onto the bed . She turned her head towards the door as she heard Sirius coming down the hallway and then down the stairs with a muffled creak. She guessed she had about ten more minutes before he returned to check on her.

Her progress was decent, having tried at least four or five combinations with starting with her own jeans on down to ghastly dated attire. Her eyes scanned over the bed, double checking her second thoughts to see if what she was going to settle on was the right decision. She was forced to transform into a time in which only muggle photos survived her family's proof that they had endured this kind of torture.

As she pulled on a single fishnet glove, her fingers wiggled elegantly through the air like she was just testing out a new skin. She took a deep breath to calm herself, preparing for the worst. Then, very timidly, she moved slowly in front of the mirror; her eyes closed tightly not wanting to peek.

When she opened her eyes she threw her head back laughing, almost cackling, when she was first to witness one of the many phases of muggle singer Madonna. Her laughter filled the room, forcing her gloved hand to stifle the sound. She didn't want Sirius to think she was mental.

The magic mirror on the wall revealed her wearing a ruffled pink skirt that fell to mid thigh, a pair of half-calf black leggings to hide her modesty should her skirt ride too high, black high heels , her own black tank top and an off the shoulder torn netted shirt. Her hair was half up in a pony tail, teased nearly beyond repair, along with a solid black headband. She found about a dozen different bracelets she dangled on her wrists and for the final icing on the cake, she found a mildly spiked dog collar with dull edges at the bottom of a drawer that she thought would be good for a touch of irony.

"Are you okay in there, love?" Sirius called from the other side of the door.

With a start, she spun around to make sure he wasn't coming in. The rest of her clothes, as well as the discarded ones lay all over the bed.

"I'm fine, almost done! Don't come in, yet. I'll be downstairs in a minute," she called back running to the bed to start tidying up. Her bangle bracelets rattled around her wrists as she moved swiftly.

"I'll be eagerly waiting," he charmed back. The noise of the stairs indicated that he was on his way back down to the kitchen.

After waving her wand to put everything back into the wardrobe, even the leopard print leggings she was nearly repulsed by, she took one more look at herself in the mirror.

"Someone has got to take a picture of this," she mused in the mirror, pulling the end of her short skirt down as far as it would allow. She just as well only wear the leggings with the amount she was almost revealing. "If they did, it's too bad no one would be able to see it."

Her last small detail was the extra chain around her neck. Her Time Turner wasn't able to be seen, but she noticed it. Tucked under the dog collar, the chain fell under her tank top, but still left a little bump against her skin. The mesh top hid it, but it was the idea that she would have it on in such an environment. What if something happened to it? What if it was accidentally torn from around her neck? She had no idea what sort of crowd Sirius was taking her into. So, in a last decision, she pulled the chain over her head and folded it carefully into her bag.

Closing the door behind her, Hermione's steps creaked along the staircase, practically announcing her descent. She could hear Sirius tinkering around in the kitchen and then the sound of contained air from a beer bottle being released as the top was popped off.

"Okay, promise you won't laugh?" she called out, still hiding behind the wall. Her face was already flushed and nervous, but it was all too real when she heard her high heels clicking across the wooden floor. She bit her lip trying not to giggle and walked around the corner to see him standing behind the island bar.

"Wow!" he barked, followed by a cat-calling whistle. "Hermione you look...you look...wow! I'm sorry, you've just floored me." She noticed the way his lips parted, honestly taken away with her new look.

"Look at you!" she declared once she took in his changed attire. He was wearing a fitted Hobgoblins t-shirt that fit snuggly against his chest, almost like a second skin. His hair was tussled, like he'd run his hands through it after dousing it with water, giving him that "just got done head banging" look. He came around the island counter and as her eyes scanned the length of him, she parted her own lips and forced a swallow. For a moment, she thought she was going to trip while standing up as she noticed, "Oh Merlin, you're wearing leather pants!"

His slender legs and waist were sleek with soft leather that molded to his form nicely, but not too tight. They hung low on his hips and booted out at the bottom to allow his black biker, not cowboy, boots to stick out. He reminded her like a dark Jim Morrison, lead singer of the Doors with the way he sulked over to her, obviously eyeing her up and down skeptically.

"Yes, that all right?" he hummed reaching for her hand. He twirled her around like a princess to admire the way her new clothes fit her in all the right places.

Still breathless from her Adonis vision, she managed, "It's just that..."

"Go on."

She had come around full circle for him and tried to finish, "It's just that you look...Oh, I'm so embarrassed."

"Is that it?" he baited with a low sexy voice.

"Sorry," she sighed. Shaking her head and glancing down to his very attractive thighs that looked thick and muscular for his shape, she finally managed, "I surrender."

Like learning he had won his prize, he smiled broadly and bearing the tips of his canine teeth, "Well, if I had known that this was what it took, I would have worn them around you weeks ago." He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

His eyes scanned over her, now that she hung in his arms like a limp doll. He took a full three seconds to trace every feature to memory, before he closed his eyes to smell her. Her freshly applied perfume was beginning to act as an aphrodisiac, leaving him nearly helpless under her bewitching enchantment. His eyes dipped down to her neck, eyeing the added choker around her neck.

"Did you do this on purpose?" he asked taking a finger and touching her collar.

Bashful eyes fell away for only a second and she bit her lip to look coy, "I may have."

"How did you know?" he whispered. His secret was always safely guarded.

She hesitated for a moment, unable to explain it. Butterflies welled up into her ribcage, embarrassed by her mistake of mentioning it. "I figured it out. Remember, even you said I could read people."

Rolling his eyes submissively, he had no choice but to accept her rather weak answer. He tightened his grip around her waist, making sure she felt his belt buckle pressing into her stomach. He moved in to take in her scent again, like smelling fear in a frightened animal. As he nuzzled his nose into her hair he was able to elicit a definite sigh from her.

"Promise you won't tell?" he pled with a breathy tone, using her weakness to his advantage.

Hearing the sound of his voice rendered her powerless against him. Her skin felt more sensitive to his subtle touch every inch he went as he traced a finger around her neck.

She closed her eyes and answered in almost an inebriated tone, "It will be our little secret. I promise."

Sirius felt like he was slowly earning the upper hand in this game and felt the true old prowling desire to tease her. Rather than sate himself with the softness of her lips that poised up towards him in dire need of

quenching, he pulled away to leave her wanting.

Glancing at the clock, they still had plenty of time for another drink. So after another glass of red wine was filled they both sat together on the suede love seat near the fire.

With a flourish of his wand and a beer bottle in the other, Sirius charmed a record out of a nearby sleeve from across the room to position it on top of a record player. A slow swift twist of the wrist and the needle of the player was gently lying down on the scratching player.

The room soon filled with the gentle noise of the record on the turntable before the crackling began to open into a guitar solo, followed by a pair of cymbals and then finally a single voice beginning to call out into song. What sounded like static noise at first turned into a rhythmic sound of rock and roll meets psychedelic punk...by wizards.

"Consider this your crash course, then," Sirius said kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of them.

Hermione kicked off her heels and perched her legs underneath her as she leaned to face Sirius and the way he sunk into the back of the couch like it was absorbing him into it. Even through the heavy drums, he closed his eyes and feigned relaxation.

Sirius's hair looked particularly soft in the low light of the living room that she felt compelled to run her fingers through it. Careful not to scratch him like a dog, she gently played through his hair as he turned his head to face her in gratitude, but did not open his eyes.

Hermione rested her head against her working hand, admiring the way his face looked so rested and at ease. Gorgeous dark eyelashes fluttered with each stroke that she made, displaying his pleasure in lieu of a slight grin. He was such a beautiful wizard to look at, still so young, that she almost couldn't wait to get back to her own time to make the comparison. He'd matured into a rather handsome man in his mid-thirties, reminding Hermione that whatever happened in this time could only be in this time.

"Is he speaking French?" Hermione asked; her interest peaked for a moment when she heard some of the lyrics. She glanced towards the crackling record player.

"Just that one bit. He's English, but he likes to brag that he knows a few languages in his songs. You recognized that?" Sirius said, finally opening his eyes to his heavenly witch. Feeling her fingers in his hair made him realize his subtle arousal.

She nodded, "Yes, I know French."

"So do I," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. There was definitely a slight twinge within him for her.

"Yes? Any other language you know?" she asked, trying not to let him bait her too much. She had to have been blind to not have noticed the way his eyes started to reveal a mischievous spark as she pet him. However, she was blinded by the intrigue of discovering something new.

"I can scrape by with a little Russian."

"Russian? Wouldn't take you for that sort of complexity."

He remained relaxed and at ease as looked at her. Her fingers still threaded themselves through his hair, he didn't want to move. He felt compelled to finally push the envelope, say something she wouldn't figure out and put his heart on his sleeve at least in another tongue.

"Вы делаете это так легко, Hermione. Я мог бы быть тот, кто вам необходима мне быть. Я влюбленность с вами," he said fluidly. **

"And what did you just say?" she beamed.

It surprised him to admit so much honesty. Even in a foreign language she may not have understood, but it was the principle that he had admitted it whole heartedly. Looking into her eyes gave him a sense of peace and silencing in the outside dark world that was encompassing them without anywhere to turn.

He took her wine glass out of her hand and set it on the coffee table next to his have empty beer bottle. He then reached for her neck to kiss her, "I just said how beautiful you are to me, Hermione."

Tasting Sirius was like enjoying a sweet strawberry, sometimes it was bitter, sometimes it was perfect and in the end it was good for you. His kiss was leaving her helpless against him, like a lost little sheep in the night and all that was left was the hungry wolf about to strike. Oh, but how she thoroughly enjoyed the wolf and every bit of him, right down to his leather pants.

She felt breathless for a moment, desperately needing air, but it was confused with the overwhelming desire welling up deep within her. Like a constant twinge down between her legs, his kiss to her was stronger than it ever had been before. Lust was beginning to magnify the intensity between them so much that she found her hands snaking around his neck and through his hair, gently fisting the long soft locks for that desperate need.

His tongue slid against hers with a skill like a cowboy with his lasso, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her onto him. Firm strong hands that held her caringly and wanting nothing more than to urge her to sit closer against him, did not expect for her to crawl over his lap and straddle him in the most compromising position yet.

By wearing leggings, Hermione felt no shame in her new position. Her only thought was how driven she was to be as close to him that instant and by the gentle sliding of his hands traveling from her waist down over her rear, she got her answer with a subtle squeeze of appreciation.

This made the small little burning fire within her strengthen as she tried as hard as she could to sate herself with his fevered kisses and the feel of his panting breath against her cheek when they'd pull away momentarily. Connected finally like two horny school children, they couldn't help but feel like two lovers in a forbidden story that couldn't get enough of each other. A long road traveled to as far as they had, but it was something within both of them that wanted this moment to rock, to grind and to paw as much as was going to be allowed.

His strong masculine hands slid over her rear that without thinking, he firmly grasped her and abruptly pulled her closer against him. She pushed against his belt buckle between her legs, forcing herself to push against his most tender spot.

Hermione gasped away out of their kiss, her lips still parted and her eyes low and wanton. She didn't want to admit how good it felt to feel him rock hard against the thin layer of her cotton leggings. It was almost enough to lose her state of mind, after hearing what could only sound like a growl after the prospected thrust and she drank of him even more than what she had. Taking advantage of good, old-fashioned carnal lust, she was finally allowing herself to let go of the consequences and quench her own desired lust for Sirius she could no longer push away.

Hermione looked down at Sirius, her head tilting fondly to the side, letting her brown locks fall partly into her face romantically. Her eyes scanned over his handsome young face, letting a single finger slide under his jaw line. She admired the way his skin was fresh and not a laugh line on it, but those were some of the things she'd missed. Seeing Sirius now, this close, reminded her that he still had an entire life to lead ahead of him. He didn't know about the pain of losing a best friend, he didn't know what it was like to be exiled from all that you trusted and he didn't know love. He knew brotherly love, but had he ever experienced love from a woman so deep and so rich that you would have, yet, another thing to die for?

_"Life should be endured." _

Remus had said and his simple words repeated in Hermione's mind like a mantra to follow. He was right. Life was too short and not valued enough. If being with Sirius at that moment made things better, if it improved both their ways of thinking in the future, then so be it.

So be it that she found his lower lip absolutely delicious and the way he growled quietly into her ear was a turn on. She loved how her body shuddered uncontrollably to his touch, knowing full well that he wasn't going to be able to unleash the darker animal against her...just yet.

She felt like they were becoming as one, though still closed, the dynamic drive to escalate their passion was quickly enhancing to undiscovered levels. Over and over again, Hermione allowed him to slide his tongue with hers like he needed her simply for hydration. She loved that he wanted her, loved the way his hands were becoming freer and freer with her, that she no longer was holding onto the strings of the qualms she had against their getting together.

Instinctively, and out of need, she very subtly began to grind her hips against him. This alone made him grip her tighter, pausing her almost out of surprise that she'd actually moved or instigated anything remotely sexy between them.

She'd had her share of young fumbling boyfriends never having gotten the mood right with her, making the make-out act more of a chore or a requirement in order to progress the relationship. But, with Sirius, it was almost beginning to feel untamed, pleasurable even with the subtle touches and now teasing. She wasn't even remotely surprised when she started to feel his fingers slinking up under her mesh shirt and up under her tank top; he was well versed in the subtleties of the art.

The sound of cotton and fleshing moving together in slow passionate strokes provoked Hermione's inner hunger to feel his bare skin. She loved the way his face, hair and neck felt under her fingers, but her slow climbing wall of passion needed to feel him more. Her searching hands slid down his firm chest and over his flat belly between them, never once breaking away from their kiss. Very slowly, as if she were opening up the first beginning ribbons of a long awaited present, she slid her hands, palms flat, under his shirt s that she could actually feel the taut muscles she had only seen.

Like velvet over her hands, his skin was nothing she'd ever felt before. Smooth, slight hair, with a slightly coarse feeling from being out in the sun shirtless or just bare from being a dog. It made her gasp in the kiss, breathless against his lips, wanting nothing more than to slow down and enjoy the feeling.

Sirius had been felt by many women, fast women, slow women, virginal women and some women that had no more on their mind than to just fuck for the entire evening. Of course, none of them had taken to him the way Hermione had. None of them had taken as long as she and none of them had looked at him with such low lidded eyes, looking like they'd just come, over just a touch on his stomach. This made her special and very exciting.

He was elated with how she took to him. She was taking pleasure in sitting on him, found the ability to slowly stroke against him and in the smallest attempt to take his shirt off, at least he thought, she had already induced a throbbing erection in him.

Shameful that a mere touch had stiffened him, it was just as erotic to think she would make him so easy. "You have the ability to change me for the better, Hermione," he whispered.

Hearing his confession was pushing her further and she continued to raise her hands up his shirt, forcing him to give in and peel it from his body. Once discarded, Hermione looked his taut tanned skin over with hungry eyes, unable to move and unsure what to do. Finally, she placed her hands over his chest, feeling his firm muscles across his upper body and wanting so much to fast forward to all the dirty things they could do together. She bit her lip to think for the first time, how breaking the rules couldn't have felt more right in that moment.

"You've already helped me see and feel things I never thought possible," she replied with traveling eyes.

"Then we were supposed to meet," he said easily. His head leaned against the back of the couch to watch her.

"Or," she swallowed, "We were supposed to be together."

A smile slowly crept over his tempting lips, vulnerable to whatever she wanted to do. He lifted a hand to her cheek and ran his thumb over her swollen pink lips, "I like the way you think, love."

Hermione leaned down to kiss him again; her bangle bracelets clanking together as she gently ran her nails down his firm bare chest.

Sirius praised her with fevered kisses down her neck as he held her body to him, deep nipping kisses where he could leave marks against the exposed skin of her collarbone. He was like a rabid animal against her, nipping and kissing and trailing his tongue up to her earlobe to whisper in her ear.

"I want you," he breathed. His hands around her shoulders and arms like she were his prisoner, "I want you in the worst way, Hermione."

All her senses peaked and she found herself willfully grinding against him in a new rhythm that both were left powerless, but needy. She hugged him close, welcoming the way he kissed any part of her bare skin that was exposed from her sliding shirt of mesh and tank top. He wanted to taste any bit of her that might have been sweet or salty or both, he just needed.

She couldn't help but clench the muscles at her juncture together, in hopes of taking advantage of the grinding. Hearing his pants, the sound of his lips tasting her in the most erotic fashion was torturing her sanity to dangle by a mere thread.

"I bet you say that to all the girls that sit on your lap," she answered practically lost.

"No...no...no," he kissed up the side of her throat, repeating over and over again his one word answer. "I've always thought that about you."

"You speak as if you know something."

"I am oblivious. But, you were difficult to read, but I only go on instinct," he said, uninterrupted. He continued to leave love bites along her jaw, around the back of her neck, on her wrists and over and over again on her lips.

"You are nothing like I thought you were," she whispered, hugging him to her bosom. "That's the honest truth."

He slowed his kisses to look up into her eyes, his dark hair framing his face perfectly, "Not many know me. Very few take the time."

"Something tells me that you only reveal your true self to a select few. Am I right?"

"Spot on, love," he said in a grave voice, giving her another chaste kiss. "And as much as I want to continue this with you, we're going to have to stop now if we intend on going to the concert."

Not thinking entirely clearly, her mind still fuzzy from the whirl of emotions within her, she couldn't help but test herself, "What if we didn't go to the concert?" Hermione leaned down, hugging her arms around his neck and leaving slow circles with her tongue just under his earlobe.

He growled deeply, flattening his hands over back and letting her loose tendrils tickle his arms, "Well, as it stands, I'm already going to need a few minutes before I can move again. But, to answer your question, that wouldn't be good. Stubby has my new Floo, so he'd likely show up and make a lot of noise," Sirius threatened. "He's done it before."

"Oh," she sighed, slowly pushing herself up away from him, thoroughly beaten.

She started to slide herself to the side of him, leaving one leg still stretched across his lap, when he quickly reached for her hands not letting her go too far. "And," he began, "If you let me finish what you just started..."

He kissed her hard, his lips wet and caressing, leaving her weak against his advances.

"...then, we might just have a long night ahead of us." Sirius took the liberty of letting go of a hand and brazenly fondling her left breast, "And believe me, we don't want to be interrupted."

As he stood up, shaking his leg out to readjust in his leather pants from the stiffness that had not yet receded, he left her there stunned and broken like a doll. A quick glance at her as he went to pick up his shirt received a smile that he knew he hadn't stepped over his boundaries...he was breaking down the fence.

**Russian Translation: _**You make it so easy, Hermione. I could be whoever you needed me to be. I'm falling in love with you.**_


	23. The Hobgoblins Featuring Stubby Boardman

Ch. 23 - The Hobgoblins, featuring Stubby Boardman

The bustling sounds of Camden in London were alive with life, but there was still a feeling of unknowing. Muggles dressed in dark leather, chains around their belts, ripped shirts, bright neon colored shoes and spiked hair that would almost render it a lethal weapon shared the streets with hidden wizards and witches. Old cars, to Hermione's standards, cruised by the little shops selling alternative clothing, records, cassettes, rock posters and an overall rebellion against disco.

Her heels clicked quickly against the sidewalk along the road. The sound echoed off nearby closed storefronts, reminding her that she was dressed very much out of her ordinary. Alongside of her, wearing leather pants, chained belt, tight Hobgoblins t-shirt that displayed every crevice of his body and messy hair was her wizard. The intimidating stomps of his boots matching her delicate steps.

She had already deemed him _her wizard_, because he was quickly fitting that empty void in her heart that she failed to notice had remained vacant for true emotion for far too long. She was learning first hand about this insatiable ability for affection to those the cared about, recognizing it first to Harry. It was an incredibly new experience to witness it first hand.

They approached the run-down looking venue that appeared otherwise closed and deserted. The outside billboard was not fully lit, but it flickered like a circuit had a short. This must have been a subtle indication for other wizards attending the concert. All the ticketing windows were closed up and darkened, except for the last one closest to the end of the building around the side.

Hermione clutched Sirius's hand tighter, her other one looping around his upper arm for added support, displaying a mild case of insecurity as they walked passed three odd looking men, obviously muggle vagrants asleep, or drunk, loitering nearby the venue. They looked shifty, suspicious even, and something in Hermione didn't sit right with them. This was a time to always be on your guard; she was taking a great risk going out the way she was in a time she did not belong.

"Sirius..." she whispered to get his attention. Her wand was tucked securely in her belt, but she just couldn't help but admit her disadvantage to the ridiculous shoes she had chosen.

Sirius glanced over passed her to see the unpleasant sight of the leaning bums eyeballing them with suspicion, "It's okay love, they're security." Hermione shook her head a little surprised and looked again to see them looking just as intimidating.

The pair walked up to the last window with the dirty glass. Sirius rested his elbows on the counter, dipping his head inside to see if he recognized anyone working. A wizard wearing a colorful bandana over his forehead with dirty blond hair flopping over counted galleons inside to the side.

"Hey Ded!" Sirius called into the window.

The wizard with dashing blue eyes revealed the dimples in his cheeks as he recognized a face, "Hey Sirius!"

"I didn't know you were working for the Hobgoblins, mate. Why didn't you tell me the other night?"

"Ah, just a one night thing I'm afraid. Not a normal gig for me," the wizard explained, leaning casually over the ticketing counter on his elbows to talk to Sirius. He gave a courteous nod towards Hermione. "You two need tickets?"

"No, I'm mates with Stubby. I'm on his list," Sirius said, glancing over at Hermione with a rewarding wink.

The wizard summoned a piece of parchment with a list of names in golden ink, "Black....Black....yes. It says here you _must have a girl_?"

"Yes, yes, it's a joke I have with Stubby. Dedalus, this is Hermione," he introduced proudly.

"Nice to meet you miss. I hope you have a good time. You definitely look the part," Dedalus smiled flirtatiously. He had a nerdy innocence about him that she did not feel threatened by. "Blimey Sirius, says here you get the special treatment," Dedalus said, perusing the parchment. "Well, forgive me if I don't kiss your arse."

Sirius chuckled and winked over at Hermione. He was eager to get in as the tuning of instruments from inside was starting to make him buzz, making his foot begin tapping on the pavement.

"Here ya go," Dedalus said, handing Sirius two long lanyards with "V.I.W."(Very Important Wizard/Witch) flashing over on small light weight metal cards. "Do you have any idea how many galleons I could have gotten if I hocked those?"

"Yes, yes," Sirius humored taking one and putting it around Hermione's neck and then his own. "Enjoy the show, Ded!"

"You as well. Just right through those doors," Dedalus said, leaning over and watching the two disappear behind a blue heavy metal door.

Sirius opened it up and it was half met by the immediate assistance of a tall thick bouncer wizard with long dreadlocks and wearing a chainmail shirt. He continued to hold the door for both Sirius and Hermione as they ducked under his telephone pole arms.

A hazy smoke filled the large dark room with small white firecrackers illuminating overhead. To their far right was a bar, where two scantily clad witches in leather made cocktails in the air as they charmed liquor into several classes at once. Ahead of them was a railing before dipping down into a small pit for the more enthused fans to barricade themselves against the front of the stage. It appeared that already magical fans had spent quite a bit of time to reserve their spot at the front of the rather short stage to be front row.

As Hermione looked around the venue, it was dimly lit if any muggle fixtures were used and the fan base was comprised of mostly people wearing clothes more stylishly tattered than what she wore. From flashy neon yellow body suits with go-go boots, to leather mini-skirts and high heels, to fishnet shirts and chains...Hermione was feeling less and less foolish and more and more pleased she had changed from her otherwise boring attire.

Sirius whispered in her ear to come along and they went down into the pit, past the wizard fans and to the far right of the stage where two more wizard bouncers stood firm and alert with their wands in their hands. They looked like they were protecting the instruments that were already displayed and set up for the band, but they clenched their wands tightly, ready to duel, should anyone get a little out of line.

Upon approaching, the bouncer wizards already could see that they were about to be addressed and one leaned over to speak to Sirius, but before he said anything, he just reached out for his lanyard. After a quick inspection he reached for Hermione's to check hers. Once passing whatever approval was needed, he motioned a hand for Sirius and Hermione to get on the stage so they could be escorted behind it.

There were no stairs so Sirius helped Hermione up on the stage, with the assistance of the bouncer wizard, while receiving a few whistles as they drew a little attention. Sirius was close behind and once he was up onstage he immediately reached for her hand. They were pointed in the direction and they set off to explore, or rather find Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins.

The backstage of a wizard concert looked very much like a muggle concert, but with fewer wires. They still had to tread over strange instruments and extra guitars as they maneuvered their way to a lit hallway that led them down the hall to the greenroom.

Loud laughter, giggling and clinks of bottles could be heard from the open door ahead; Sirius nodded here and there to the bouncers that secured the back area. They would glance down at their lanyards and then say nothing to them as they passed. Hermione received an extra wink or two whenever they gave her a not-so-subtle once over, reminding her that she was dressed somewhat provocatively.

Sirius walked into the greenroom with Hermione close behind him and was immediately welcomed with a warm reception like he was visiting long lost relatives. Well, long lost relatives that had been three times removed, wore torn jeans and chains, attracted Barbie-doll looking groupies and had a flair for eyeliner.

"Sirius Fucking Black!"

From between two gothic Barbies, a long haired wizard with fried blown out hair started to get up. His eyes were rimmed with deep dark eyeliner. He wore a tattered fishnet tank top with more tears than holes that made you wonder why he even bothered to wear the shirt, fingerless gloves and low riding tight jeans that obviously displayed his lack of underwear.

_Stubby Boardman._

The two men embraced roughly as the small room of band members, friends and groupies continued to ramble on or watch the scene.

"Good to see you all dolled up, mate. It's been awhile," Sirius said, patting his friend hard on the back as they opened up for Hermione.

"And, you brought a girl. Witch or muggle?" Stubby asked Hermione before any introduction.

Taken back, Hermione hesitated to answer for herself and she glanced to Sirius as if she needed him to translate.

"Stubby, this is my Hermione," he said proudly. Though rough with Stubby, he did not taint his fancy for her when he said her name.

"Really? That's not the name of the bird you mentioned earlier," Stubby corrected with an overdramatic performance.

Sirius's mouth turned into a sly grin and shook his head, "Don't get me in trouble with her already."

"I'm just kidding!" Stubby pulled away from his friend and immediately embraced the pretty witch in black and pink to loosen her up. "Good to meet you, love. Name's Stubby, but it's not a reputation."

With an obvious alluding wink, Hermione's mouth gaped a couple of times like a fish out of water over his personal introduction, "Ah, hello." She couldn't help but smile with the way he seemed so jovial, yet dangerous.

"Careful, now. She's already spoken for," Sirius friendly warned with a fond tilt of his head for her. He still kept his otherwise rough exterior for the company they kept, but he managed to speak to Hermione with the same dignity and respect as he offered in private.

"Yeah? Did you stun the other guy in order for you to take her out?" Stubby jabbed, fake punching Sirius in the stomach. "Just kidding, love. Come, have a drink, eat - there's loads of food."

"Do you want-"

"I'll go and get us drinks," Hermione interrupted as Stubby went to reclaim his spot between the two Barbies. "You go visit with your friends."

Sirius smiled sweetly and reached to tuck a hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed under her jaw before consenting, "All right."

Sirius went around the room, shaking hands and giving slaps to the fellow band members he had known quite well from the many concerts he'd attended. They all welcomed him as if he was one of their own and taking a seat amongst the circle in a worn old sunken couch, leaving an empty spot for Hermione.

Glancing over at Hermione standing at the catered bar, Stubby leaned over his knees to speak to Sirius who sat across from him, "Well, what is she?"

Sirius gave an arrogant sniff and pretended to file his nails on his shirt, "She's muggleborn."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Stubby chuckled and slapped his friend on the knee. "They're a rarity these days, mate. Is she any good?"

"She is, to say the least, absolutely incredible. And that's all I'm saying," Sirius smiled smugly, welcoming the return of Hermione as she handed him a butterbeer bottle.

Stubby watched the witch carefully, probably more than necessary and in the wrong state of mind. He held a mutual respect with Sirius when it came to witches, but that didn't mean he wouldn't flirt with her any chance he got.

One by one, Hermione was introduced to the rest of the band members. The only other women in the room were the two Barbies that sat on either side of Stubby like giggling mindless bookends. Their low cut tank tops practically painted on and skirts that were shorter than their underwear line added to their lack of personality that could nowhere compare to Hermione. They did not add to any conversations, but merely served as a visual stimulant before the show.

From hand to lips to hand passing, a bottle of mysterious clear liquid made the round around the circle. Each sip resulted in a burning of the throat, a seething sound from their tongue and then an exhale of mist through their lips. When the bottle made its way to Sirius, he passed it over Hermione and handed it to the next band member without taking a sip of his own.

"Always the responsible one, Sirius," Stubby burped, scratching his chest and ripping a few more holes in his fishnet top.

Sirius just grinned and shook his hair out of his face, "Someone's got to try and keep you alive, Stub."

"And many times, I believe you did, mate. Like that time I wanted to jump off the Tower of London?"

"You did, Stubby," Sirius dimly drawled. "I had to transfigure the phone box into a big pillow to catch you in your drunken escapades."

"Oh, yeah!" Stubby perked up, taking the old bottle from the nearby Barbie witch who looked otherwise unaware of her surroundings. "But then, I saved you when you got in trouble with those American cheerleaders here on their school trip-"

"FIVE MINUTES!" a stage hand yelled into the room from standing in the doorway. He held a clipboard and quill and he tapped it anxiously to get their full attention. In a rush, all the band members scrambled to find their footing and an inch of sobriety to make it for last minute touch ups or costume additions.

"An American cheerleader story? Saved in the nick of time," Hermione whispered into Sirius's ear. She was curious about the rest of the story, but sure Stubby's state of mind had already lost its train of thought.

Meeting her heavenly brown eyes, he couldn't help but have a few more skeletons in the closet, "No kidding. Just don't ask."

The smell and sound of hairspray filled the room as all four band members sprayed in unison, teased and pulled their hair to be even more mangled than a rat's nest. The female ornaments sat patiently together on the couch, smiling blankly to both Hermione and Sirius as if they were desperately hoping to be instructed what to do.

"So, Stubby, have you only been popping up here and there for private gigs?" Sirius asked, lightly patting Hermione's leg to stand up with him. He imagined that they were all going to be leaving soon to filter out with the crowd.

"Yeah!" the tall haired wizard called back. He was spraying and applying glitter on his face as he talked. "It's getting too scary out there, mate. It's getting too dark, even for me. Saw your Bella-"

"She's not _my _Bella, Stub," Sirius moaned with disdain.

"Yeah well, she's something to look at, but damn if she truly isn't he-who-must-not-be-named's lady. Oh, she gives me the willies."

Hermione just stood by Sirius, taking in the wizard rocker's perception that was the absolute truth. Whether she hadn't declared it at the time, Bellatrix had said she was the most loyal to Voldemort.

"Yeah, well, you're not alone," Sirius said, reaching for Hermione's hand and giving it a light squeeze as he lovingly interlaced their fingers.

"ONE MINUTE, GOBLINS!" the stage hand yelled as he leaned in the door with his lanyard flying around.

At the sound of the frantic stage hand that was desperately trying to ignite a fire under the bands' rear, Sirius gave the band a good luck and escorted Hermione back out to the main venue. They found a good spot in front of the stage, right behind some very eager fans that chanted over and over again for the band to come out.

Hermione felt very much out of her element. Surrounded in an environment that she, herself, would never attend; she was glad that Sirius stood close with a hand around her waist. The venue was smoky and dark, like it had been imploded and the smoke and debris were still clearing, and the acoustics made the crowd's voices echo like a dragon's roar in a cave.

Faces blended together, but all had the favor of the shadows and low lighting on their side. Hermione glanced around, taking in her surrounds, when in the midst of some taller fans, a thin young man stood out as he smiled and laughed with a few others. Wearing a typical black t-shirt and jeans, he had a chain attaching his wallet and arm warmers to hide his wrists...or forearms. She recognized the smile, his sparkling eyes and the way he played it rather innocent in a room full of rock fans.

_I know him...Barty Crouch Junior._

"See something interesting love?" Sirius asked leaning his face in next to hers.

The sound of his suspecting voice forced her to look away, "No, no - I just thought I recognized someone. I was wrong."

She had to lie; there was nothing more about it. The man who would kidnap a well-known Auror and steal pieces of his hair to add to polyjuice potion in order to help bring Voldemort back was standing a few feet from them. He was found guilty of being a Death Eater, which would explain his arm warmers, and was part of the torturing team of the Longbottoms. An evil boy in the making and standing too close to them. Hermione had to turn away, it was almost too tempting to expose.

Meanwhile, Sirius laid light kisses over her temples as he ran his hands up and down her arms. Her back pressed close against his chest.

The surrounding sounds began to murmur together at different volumes, but it was the collective high pitched, "SIRIUS!" was like a splash of cold water over them...and it was in stereo.

Hermione was just craning her neck around like Sirius as she just barely missed an arm flying past her face as it wrapped itself with another pair around her date's neck. In a blur, two very provocatively dressed witches tackled Sirius in a very affectionate manner that caught even him off guard.

"Where have you been-"

"We haven't seen you at the pub-"

"Heard you broke up with Giselle-"

"She wasn't good enough for you-"

"Oh, Sirius, take me for a ride on your motorbike, please-"

Sirius finally got his footing as the two witches rubbed themselves against him, forcing him to rest his arms around their shoulders. He was able to wriggle out of their clutches; their arms pulling on him like tentacles.

"Ladies please," he tamed, breaking free and taking his place next to Hermione. "Not tonight."

"What?" one of the witches whined, followed by a dramatic pout. Neither woman had even taken notice to the girl he stood so close to.

"Not tonight, I'm sorry," he declared. He glanced over at Hermione to make sure she was unscathed, quickly reclaiming her hand.

"But, Sirius-"

"No, ladies, I'm sorry," he said calmly. His tone had an air of arrogance, breaking the news like their world was about to collapse. "I'm not really available anymore."

Hermione felt incredibly self-conscious as the women's eyes slowly narrowed in on her, sizing her up rather scandalously. She hadn't felt this singled out since the stares of being Viktor Krum's date at the ball her fourth year. She remembered all the vicious sets of eyes and clucking tongues as she was compared and doubted for being good enough for someone like him, not to mention the "thing he'd miss the most" during the second task in the lake. Unfortunately, those events were coming to haunt her again, and the fact that she might have heard Sirius use the word "girlfriend" to them just made her want to melt into the dingy scuffed floor.

The remaining conversation faded out between Sirius and the two other witches, whose skirts were so short she could see their religion and tube tops so tiny they could have been headbands. While her face began to warm, it wasn't until Sirius leaned over to kiss the side of her neck did she realize they had left them.

"I told you that you had the ability to change me," he whispered as he feathered his lips along the outside of her ear.

Hermione was quickly returning to her center, closing her eyes and tuning all the surrounding sounds away. She reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder and let her fingers trail up around his neck.

"I love the way you make me act," he continued close and intimate. "I want to know every bit of you, what you feel like, what you taste like-"

"Sirius, not here," she whispered bashfully. It was not the place to have him pouring on the charm. Her tolerance was low and at this rate she wasn't going to last through the first song.

He made no attempt to hide his smile, his canine teeth peeking just below his upper lip, when he noticed her uneasiness. It pleased him greatly that she was responding rather receptively to his touches and words. Her resistance was slowly dwindling down and judging by the color of rose in her cheeks, he needed to behave. He pulled her in closer to position himself behind her as they faced the stage. His arms slid around her waist protectively and locking her to him.

The crowd around them started to get a little more vocal and soon erupted into stronger whistles and applause. One by one the band members started to enter, waving to their audience and beginning to put on or charm their instruments.

"I've just got two words for you to think about," he whispered closely, "_long night_."

Hermione stiffened like she was standing in the shower and it just turned cold. She felt her skin flush, her heart start to flutter and the overwhelming urge to hyperventilate came to surface. He was speaking about the inevitable. He was thinking about it, suggesting it, urging it, stoking her fire...and she was responding to his every request. Subconsciously, her hands had traveled down her sides and behind her, around his legs where her fingers lightly stroked the soft leather covering his thighs.

Stubby had come out to a strong, loud, thunderous applause. Several sparks from wands went up in the air as the crowd raised their hands. Immediately, extinguishing charms flew over their heads as the security wizards attempted to contain the overzealous drunken magic at the concert. They couldn't confiscate wands, but they could numb them so they couldn't do hazardous spells.

But, Hermione didn't notice. She was too drawn into the way Sirius cradled her tightly against him. She felt the slight vibrations against her back from his chest as his lungs called out and cheered Stubby on. His movement was arousing as he jittered on the balls of his feet, his hands laying over her in different places. Being against him made her feel safe and wanted. Like in a dream you never wanted to wake from, her heart was beating in her temples, her throat was going blissfully dry and waves of good dizziness washed over her in a warm euphoria.

"Step careful, love," Sirius interrupted, nudging her closer to the stage where and empty spot on the railing had opened. His hands stayed around her all the way until she reached the railing where he locked her in protectively from the surrounding crowd.

An hour into the concert, Stubby continued to thrill the crowd rocking hard and making sure everyone at the gig was having the time of their lives. Even Hermione. However, she had summoned small ear plugs to help lower the volume of the speakers. But, Stubby sung his heart out screaming into the microphone a sort of love ballad one might hear if heavy metal love was your thing. Half the lyrics were hard to decipher, but as Sirius sung along next to her, bouncing behind her and cheering his mate on, she would catch on what the song was about. A few times, Stubby would come over to their side of the stage and gyrate in a rather rude way, but it was more for the humorous factor than a turn on. However, the two scantily clad witches that had accosted Sirius earlier made it quite close to them and nearly fainted when Stubby was performing his rhythmic gyrations that could only be compared to a telephone poll doing the hula.

The drums echoed louder into the forum, bouncing off the walls hard enough Hermione believed that she may have seen a few rocks of debris from some weakly supported rafters. The music crowd began to get rowdier, pulling around each other and shoving up against bodies like they were feeling and living the music along with the gyrating singer on stage with wild blown out hair. She felt Sirius's hands no longer holding her in a flirtatious manner, but in more of a protective manner. An area on their right opened up and step by step, Sirius began to pull Hermione away from wild limbs and closed-eyed thrashers dodging about like their shoes had springs on the bottom.

More debris began to fall from overhead, this time more than could not be noticed. The overhead lighting began to shake. Nearby, a few empty beer bottles rattled right onto the floor, shattering to the hard ground. The floor beneath them was definitely vibrating, causing their footing to become a bit more unsteady.

_Something was happening._

"Stay close to me," Sirius said as he started to pull his wand out of his back pocket.

Hermione followed his lead and pulled hers from an inner pocket of her skirt, gripping it firmly to her side. The two of them backed away, watching the crowd no longer following the vibe of the music but reacting poorly to the blatant disregard for authority.

"STUPEFY!" several yelled and people, tables and loose chairs flew in every direction.

Sirius immediately pulled Hermione to crouch down to the floor, keeping his head low, he shielded her with his body from flying bottles that soared through the air like low diving birds. The room quickly filled with smoke and screams of distressed people.

"Stand down! Stand down!" a leader called out with his voice bellowing throughout the room louder than what came out of the onstage microphone.

Without even trying to decipher any reason for the situation, Hermione immediately began to panic within. Trapped in a strange place, in a time she did not belong to, in some sort of bombing! She never noticed the ceiling hanging so low and the walls a revolting shade of red-brown that was only accented by the dusty air she could barely see through and the florescent overhead lights that had been turned on. Blinking her eyes furiously she reached for Sirius's free hand to grasp and make sure he was close.

"It's all right love, it's a raid," he whispered low to her, still ducking over her and craning his neck to see the small army that was walking in.

She followed his sightlines to a small unit of a dozen wizards and witches, all armed with their wand tips pointing at the crowd, standing ready and on their guard. They immediately blocked all the exits, stood by any open doorways and already had two standing on the stage guarding the band and surveying the crowd below them.

"This is your only chance now to surrender!" a grave voice bellowed, followed by a familiar wooden clunking leg scraping across the dirty ashen floor. He commanded the small army to round up the concert goers with a wave of his wand to bind them magically in the center of the room with invisible ropes.

"Let's go, you two," a sharp voice snapped from behind Sirius and Hermione who still crouched low on the ground. An unfriendly hand pulled both of them up from the back of their shirts and shoved them back into the crowd.

"Oi! Let me see Moody!" Sirius barked back to the man wearing all black with a burette. Though the man looked no older than they did, it was apparent by the fresh scars on his face that he'd already seen some things.

"Shut up! You will at the Ministry!" the scarred man shouted, displaying his sheer lack of impatience.

_The Ministry? I cannot go to the Ministry!_

Hermione ducked her head behind Sirius as they were pressed further in the fighting crowd. Like angry biting dogs, they were beginning to rebel with their own wands aimed at the small army. They may have not outnumbered them, but three people already lay stunned on the floor bound in medieval looking shackles; it was obvious they were out skilled.

Hermione swallowed and tried to keep herself poised and alert, but her shaking hands reached out for Sirius to grip his shirt. She was beginning to feel the weight of the harsh reality and guilt settle in on her; her fate threatening to never return home.

"We're not fucking Death Eaters! Let me see Moody, he's right there! I can hear him tearing up the floor with his wooden leg!" Sirius yelled to the man who stood like a steel soldier, uninterested in listening to what one man had to say and was more interested in the other thirty behind him that may have been ready to attack.

"Sirius, they think we're Death Eaters?" Hermione asked with definite worry, her voice shaking quietly. She gripped his arm, forcing him to face her and not entice the guard.

"They do, they're Aurors, but I know Moody, he's a friend-"

"Shut it, punk!" the man yelled, drowning Sirius's voice into the crowd.

"I want everyone in two lines! If you can't count to two, then we'll be happy to give you a lesson. If any of you casts anything in any of our directions, believe me, there will be no time for you to explain your accident, but plenty time later for your families to bury you-"

"You can't kill, it's hypocritical!" a lone voice shouted over the instructions from the center of the grouped concert goers.

"We can and we will. First dismissal goes to the cowards that support Voldemort!" Mad-Eye Moody informed with defiant power.

Several shouting jeers from the rounded crowd retaliated, but no one, yet, threatened with their wand. Hermione stayed close to Sirius, her eyes darting all around them as if looking for a way out from the cell of the venue, desperately frightened that she was about to get herself hurt, or worse, put Sirius in a place that he should not be. He shouldn't be at the concert, he should be home!

Behind them, Sirius and Hermione felt a struggle from the back of the crowd they were forced to band with. Pushing and shoving hurled Hermione hard against Sirius's back, feeling the thrusting of two wizards making a break and dashing away. In seconds, two wand streams were out and cast upon the running pair and as if their will to run had been vacuumed away, they fell on top of one another like a stack of marionettes.

They were dead.

Hermione took in several feared gasps, stunned by the simplicity of the work performed. Sirius turned around and quickly turned her away from the scene, forcing her to press her head against his chest as he attempted to sooth her.

Her body shivered in his grasp, her hands over her mouth to cover her breaking face. The horror of the scene was too realistic, she'd seen it before at the Battle at Hogwarts the year Voldemort fell and this was only the beginning of their future. She'd learned to get over death and blood, but it was the idea and fear that she could not fight here, she could not use her smartest spells and cleverness was not a challenge. She had put Sirius in danger by being there...on that night...without a way out. She had already risked too much and her very existence was at risk.

"Don't look, Hermione," Sirius whispered sternly, cradling her and patting her head. "I need Moody, now!" Sirius yelled at the wizard nearby again, this time with the voice of a wolf.

Hermione took big gaping breaths, trying to rekindle strength and show a little bravery in the situation. She could not crumble, this was not foreign to her; it was something she knew and yet it was still so difficult to grasp her mind around. She was a fish out of water and too far away from home. She peeked her eyes over Sirius's shoulder as he, once again, tried to usher another wizard over to hear his requests over countless other wails and arguments.

The two lifeless bodies lay broken as another female Auror knelt down to check their arms. She raised the shirt of the first dead wizard, revealing a clean left forearm. "Clean!" she called out to another supervising over her shoulder. She pulled the sleeve of the dead wizard furthest from her where she yelled, "Hit!" The Dark Mark was sharp and very obvious tattooed on the second wizard's forearm.

The solid clunking of a wooden leg got louder as the crowd silenced in a wave as Mad-Eye Moody came to the other side of the group of concert goers. His magical eye rolled around in its socket, committing all faces to memory as if everyone looked like a familiar suspect. The witch or wizard he would stop and take particular interest in cowered as they stared at his rotating eye with repulsiveness and fear.

Sirius had one eye on the nearby wizard that stood straight and militant, his wand behind him and primed between his fingers as he waited for Moody to come closer. Once he was three wizards to his and Hermione's right, he began trying to fight for his attention.

"Moody! Moody, here!"

"Sirius?" Moody saw him and gave a repulsed frown. He reached for his shirt and pulled him away from the crowd, pulling Hermione with him. "What in a toad's rectum are you doing here, boy? Do you have any idea...any idea what is crawling in these walls?"

"Sorry, sir, it's just-"

"Who is she? I don't know her!" Moody barked. He continued to hold onto the front of Sirius's shirt as he went to reach for Hermione's left arm, turning it over to let his wandering eye inspect that she wasn't trying to cover anything up.

"She's clean! She's not one of them, Moody. You have my word," Sirius explained. Even being held gruff by his shirt, he knew where respect was to be given and when he could supposedly be in some rather deep trouble with the wrong sort.

"Why are you here, Sirius?" Moody asked again, finally letting go of his shirt and stretching out his fingers. His magical eye was reversed and watching his Aurors behind him.

"Sorry mate, I'm friends with Stubby."

"Who?"

"The lead singer."

"Oh, fine." His magical eye came back to face them and it glanced over at Hermione suspiciously. "Wrong place to be tonight, boy. We knew this was a set up and half of this room is definitely on my list. I think it might be best if you two went straight home - now."

"Good idea, Moody," Sirius nodded. He was glad that this was going to be a lot simpler than the rest of the wizards and witches in that room. His thoughts went to Stubby and not because he might be a suspected Death Eater, but by the amount of muggle narcotics he had stored in his dressing room at that moment.

"You, girl, who are your parents?" Moody barked, looking all the way on Hermione, now. To Moody everyone was a suspect.

Hermione froze, half wanting to tell him that he was her former professor gone missing, she was Harry Potter's best friend and fellow member of the Order, but none of that could come out.

"Dentists!" she shouted from an unknown voice. She was too distracted by protecting the truth, so she decided to panic and yell it. "They're both muggle dentists!"

"Hmm, muggles? Girl, you are not safe in this room. Sirius, you've put her in a lot of danger being here. A lot!"

"I thought it would-"

"You thought wrong, boy. Get her home and if you like her the way I think you do, it might be best to keep a close eye on her. She's got plans to leave soon," Moody predicted, but by reading the look on her guilty face, he knew he was right. "She's a sitting duck here."

"Got it, mate. Thanks," Sirius nodded, putting a hand around her waist and holding her to him tightly.

With a nod of his chin, his eye and then his head turned toward the murmuring crowd. As they saw the Head Auror allow the two to leave, a slight disruption stirred just as the door opened and several streams of light flashed over heads and thuds fell to the floor unceremoniously.

"Don't look back, love," Sirius said, pushing Hermione quickly out the door. Once outside, they were cloaked with the night air, but the silence outside was unsettling. Sirius hugged Hermione closely next to him, his arm tightly around her waist.

Sirius looked down the street that he had frequented often on his motorbike. Storefronts that were once alive, only hours ago, with music, clothing, colors and fishnets were closed up and deserted. It was as if someone had just pulled the plug of their electricity and were forced to button in for the night. The silence was deafening and all that could be heard were the echoing steps of Hermione's heeled shoes.

"Sirius?" Hermione asked, noticing the deserted streets. She looked right and left with him, seeing that not anyone, not one muggle was out that night. Not even a vagrant looking for some loose change or leftover fast food wrappers along the street. "Where did everyone-"

"It's not safe," Sirius immediately accepted with a shake of his head. His black locks flew around his sightlines as he gripped Hermione tighter, possibly painfully even. "I shouldn't have taken you here, Moody's right. You were a sitting duck."

He rushed Hermione to the side of the building again, as if trying to get out of view, or out of such a targeted area. They appeared to be the only souls on the block, aside from the wizards holed up in the Forum behind them, but even they could not be heard. The venue sounded just as it appeared, deserted, dilapidated and abandoned.

Hermione's steps were a bit quicker as she was ushered to a dark side of the building, "Sirius, I don't feel safe here."

"I know, we're going," he quipped, pushing her against a building. He glanced back around the corner once they were out of sight, in order to get one more look in. He put her arms around his neck and three seconds later they Disapperated.


	24. The Ripple

_A note from Serade Black: This chapter is edited for rating purposed. If you are of age, you can read the Author's Cut at my LiveJournal community, the link is on my bio page and you can follow it there. **this chapter is edited for content** As always, the reviews inspire me and I love the theories and questions. I may not answer all of them, but I do consider them. As for the Aurors killing in the previous chapter, its been said that in that time, they were given permission to do so, if needed. Dark times, remember. Enjoy - SB_

Ch. 24

**"The Ripple"**

Sirius and Hermione Apparated outside the front door of number twenty-four. Shielded by the tall shrubbery, it acted like a short fortress and stirred a sense of relief over both of them. Sirius went forward and raised his wand, having never put it back into his pocket since they were wrangled up like cattle back at the concert, and whispered the incantation to unlock the door. He stood back and quickly ushered Hermione inside, watching the swirling black fog float listlessly over the bushes like a strong current in a river.

Once inside the house, Hermione kicked off her shoes in the front foyer, letting them clunk on the wood floor like two thin books. She curled her toes gratefully, enjoying the freedom of no longer being restrained by the ridiculous fashion shackles.

As she heard Sirius locking the door behind them, she turned around, "Sirius, how many in there were Death Eaters?"

"I don't know," he said brushing passed her and walking down the narrow hallway to the kitchen.

He appeared to be upset and so she followed him closely down the hall; his boots slamming down hard on the wooden floor with each step that he took. His shoulders were rolled back, stiff, and he went right to his bar to take out a half filled bottle of Fire whisky. He slammed down two glasses in front of him, nearly shattering them on the counter, and filled a proper shot in each one.

He glanced over at Hermione and pushed one over to her as he lifted his to his lips and knocked it back. The wince on his face reflected the harshness of the liquor he favored.

Hermione furrowed her brow and shook her head, "No, thank you. I'd rather have tea right now." She was disappointed over witnessing his immediate need for alcohol in tense situations.

Nodding, he left her shot glass alone and turned to start her request. He lifted the kettle off of the stove, filled it with water and set it back on the stove for it to heat. All the while he seemed to be banging and making more noises than necessary as he prepared, making Hermione a little on edge. His back still appeared quite stiff, he barely spoke and now he was taking his anger out on a metal tea kettle etched with a black design in its intricate handle.

"Have I done something wrong, Sirius?" Hermione asked, finding a quiet voice not to interrupt his frustrated tea making.

Like hitting a slow motion button, the sound of her voice made him realize what he probably looked like. Though frustrated, his behavior was not becoming in her eyes and he needed to slow down. He took a moment to compose himself and laid his hands flat on the counter. His shoulders hunched and with a slow shake of his head he answered, "No."

Hermione watched and waited, twisting her fingers in front of her nervously, unsure of his sanity.

Slowly, he turned around to face her and began to close the distance between them as he reached for her hands. "Not at all. I'm mad at myself, really." She looked up at him, waiting for further explanation. "I've just been so distracted lately, pleasantly distracted, that I've forgotten to look around. People I know are dying and I'm reading about it in the Daily Prophet, friends of mine have gone missing while shopping in Diagon Alley and it's overlooked, James is talking about going into hiding and that means everything is going to change. I've just been so blinded lately that I never even thought of the true repercussions of exposing you tonight."

Hermione felt his hands tighten around hers and she looked away for a moment, feeling her skin warm for being a distraction to him.

"I should be out there fighting, I should be out there finding those that hurt the ones I know, but yet I'm finding out more and more that ignorance is bliss. I'm not afraid to die, but I am afraid of forgetting what I'm fighting for." His voice was no longer angry, but it did waver on the brink of confession. "You make all the darkness go away, Hermione. You make me feel like there isn't a war out there and that each day might be our last."

Hermione was deeply moved, torn even, rendering her speechless. His eyes sparkled when he spoke to her, his guard down, his soul exposed and she wondered if anyone else, other than the Marauders, had ever seen this side of him. A small part of her wondered if any other women he'd kissed had ever been so lucky to see this side of him.

His eyes lured her in like a moth to a flame. His midnight locks framed his face like a male model coming off the runway, making her stomach do flip flops as her lips parted to exhale the pent up arousal. His cheekbones were so well defined by the low lit candles he had ignited when they came in and just when she was going to say something, anything, the whistle blew on the kettle.

With a wink, he pulled away and started to fix the tea.

Somewhat relieved, the intensity between them had almost been too much for her to handle at that moment for she felt her self control quickly slipping away. With quiet bated breath, she looked away biting her lip. Her insides fluttered madder than a wild canary in a very small cage and just like that, she was more aware of her surroundings than she had ever been. The dark night beyond the drawn curtains, the time in which she stood, the danger outside, the risk of being alive in this decade and finally being acutely aware of...him.

The sound of him tinkering in front of her in the kitchen, doing normal things, living a normal life and fighting a losing battle against his own kind. His days, his nights, his joys were numbered and as she stood there in the same large warm room with him, she could do nothing to change his destiny. The only thing she could do was make it better for him, make him enjoy life and maybe, just maybe, she could know what something real and true felt like.

She mustered the strength from deep within and pushed herself off the counter, quietly stepping close behind him and laying a hand gently on this back. He gave her a side glance, offering a grin. The flat of her hand ran up his back and along his shoulder, feeling his muscles move under her palm as he moved to prepare their tea. Her fingers went into his soft hair, curling around layered locks.

"Sirius," she whispered, watching his profile finally turn to face her.

As he leaned in, following the slight pull of her hand around his neck, Sirius saw it immediately. He saw the overwhelming desire in her face, felt it in her fingers, and the energy radiating from her was stronger than a magnetic pull. He kissed her the way she wanted and turned his entire body around to envelop his arms around her, pulling her against him so that there was not a thread of space between them.

His hands rubbed down her back, feeling the thin material over her skin protecting her from investigating fingers. He smoothed over her entire body as he kissed her deeply, feeling her frame pressing against his to make them one. He kissed her cheek, her ear, her jaw and down around behind her neck where her brown curls hid her secret spots. He loved the way her entire body sighed against his as he freely moved over her, falling more and more into him, submitting herself to his every will.

"Tell me you'll stay with me tonight," he whispered into her ear. He was already sliding calloused hands rough from motorcycle riding up under her tank top, already eager to keep as little clothing on her as possible.

There was a definite ringing in her ears that made her jaw stiffen, but she was easily convinced. "As long as you..." she faded, letting her head fall back from the pleasure of his massaging lips over her collarbone.

"As long as I what?" he asked between slow drawn out kisses over various areas of her body. "As long as I make you feel pleasure? As long as I promise to worship every part of your body?"

"Oh, Sirius," she breathed, feeling his fingers sliding her tank top up and over her head. Her chocolate brown curls bounced full around her shoulders as she was beginning to be freed. Her thoughts went to her Time Turner and how glad she was that she had taken it off before the concert.

He pulled his own shirt up over his head, displaying his lean slender body that left her practically panting to touch his naked skin. Timid, nearly shaking hands touched his bare skin, lightly scratching her nails along him in a desiring manner.

Sirius scooped her up close again, loving the way she appeared so captivated by his bareness. His voice dropped lower, "As long as I make love to you...all night long?"

Hermione felt her ears burning and the muscles at her juncture squeezed their arousal. Fear and desire mixed within her like a new potion. Suddenly, she was more aware of his hands and how they had already slid her skirt over her hips and onto the floor, leaving her to step out of it.

Her arms snaked around his neck, wishing to be closer. Feeling his hard half naked body rubbing up against her was as hot as the sun's rays on a summer day. Sirius pushed her back so that she was wedged between him and the island counter in his kitchen.

"As long as you..." she started again, responding to his fierce kisses. She was starving for him and she didn't want to stop.

"Go on," he whispered encouragingly. His fingers were already sliding under the waistband of her leggings.

"As long as you make me never forget you!" she sighed, clawing at him ravishingly.

"Don't worry love, you won't."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Her eyes fell closed, relishing the feeling of his weight pressed against her. She was pinned helplessly to the floor, her back stiff and flat, trapped against his grasp. His breath was hot on her cheek as he spoke to her, almost rendering her lost into a trance, his lips dangerously close...

...just like they were in the hallway before she left.

Hermione's eyes shot open and she gasped, "Oh my god, you remembered!"


	25. Come to Realize

_A Note from Serade: This is another chapter that is edited and the uncut version can be read on my LJ (the link is on my bio page for ). I love the long reviews I've been recieving. It keeps me on my toes with your theories. Keep 'em comin. On a side note, I will be at Azkatraz (HP Symposium in San Francisco), as I'll also be hosting a roundtable discussion I've co-written on Sirius/Hermione. If there are any readers here attending, I hope to meet some of you. Thank again! Enjoy. ~SB_

Ch. 25

"Come to Realize"

The winds started to pick up outside of number twenty-four. The vine that hugged the wrought iron gate out front fluttered against the elements. More and more these days, the air started to thicken, leaving it moist and overall unsettling. Dark things were occurring behind closed doors, wizards masked themselves in hoods performing tasks, taking lives and building an army.

Ignorance was bliss these days to the ones that were afraid to fight and courage was built on knowledge from those not afraid to attain it. Meetings formed, alliances between neighbors strengthened, but fear weighed heavy on everyone's heart.

However, for the two individuals on the floor of number twenty-four that lay naked in front of the fire under a blanket, the world outside could not touch them.

"Yes love, I remembered," he calmed.

Hermione looked away; her eyes with worry and her face with panic. She was quickly submerged in the memory of all that had already transpired between them. Their confrontation in the hallway must have been his breaking point, meaning if he remembered then, than he had always known. He knew when he came out of the Veil, he knew during the Holidays spent at Grimmauld Place and it must have been nearly traumatizing for him when he first saw her with his own human eyes in the shrieking shack.

Sirius always knew.

"Sweetheart, I've lost you somehow," young Sirius said, rubbing his fingers down her face. "I remembered the precaution, yes. I just happen to know it in Russian, too," he winked.

Her eyes quickly met his as if she was searching for something. She must not have set the _Obliviator _spell when she left and that's why he remembered everything. Only, her error had caused him far more pain by torturing him with the memory of her, making their interludes haunt him for the rest of his life. He had remembered this moment, right now, lying in front of the fire, their bodies naked and warm against each other, about to commit the most forbidden rule of the Time Turner. How awful it must have felt to go through that, alone even, knowing that in his darkest times, this girl that he knew was not there for him. How painful it must have been to meet this gawky young girl that had no idea, no clue of what they were to become. To look at her with frustrated thoughts of anger for a teenage girl that had no idea about his past, or her future.

What if she was a reason for his brooding? Not entirely so, there was more to life than a broken heart, but what if she had added to the equation that he had to sit around and wait? Wait for what? For her to experience it? For him to finally be able to talk to her about it? For him to ask the questions why? And what about his time spent in Azkaban? Was he waiting for her to visit? Did he wonder, all those years, where she was? And then there was her birthday.

_Her twenty-first birthday._

He had probably waited for her birthday for years. Waiting for the time when he could actually talk to her about it and what they had experienced together. Together they held a secret that was beyond comprehension and as she looked back into the young Sirius's eyes, she had to live it. It was all too much to contain.

Hermione kissed him before he could ask her anything, allowing him to dance his tongue romantically with hers. Her head was spinning over everything she was quickly realizing, that she wanted to live. She wanted to experience him, she wanted to feel him and for the love of life, she wanted him to enjoy it. She needed this; she wanted to feel what it was like to be ever so bad. Damage had been done and later it needed to be fixed, but for now, he emitted a sense of history that made him incredibly difficult for her to resist.

"Please, Sirius!" she begged, almost from another voice within.

He growled as he teased his teeth in a tender spot behind her ear, "There you are, love. Thought I'd lost you."

~xXxXxXxX~

Their bodies shuddered against each other, feeling the jolt of the muscles relaxing. Second by second their heartbeats began to subside as their breath was ragged in each others' ear. Small light kisses traced the others' cheek as they quietly relished the unity they shared.

"Well," Hermione whispered as he took in her disheveled appearance, "I'm not going to forget that."

Sirius growled against a kiss on her neck and whispered, "I told you."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione stirred under the soft covers in a room only as bright as the overcast sky outside. Clouds came in, not quite releasing their fill, but leaving a decent shade to the surrounding neighborhood of number twenty-four. Her arms stretched out across the bed instinctively, testing her space and feeling about. Her sneaking fingers met the edge of the bed on one side and a vacant pillow on the other. Her mind remembered and her eyes opened to her surroundings.

_Sirius's bed._

She felt her muscles aching in certain areas. Both relaxed and rather satisfied for the moment. The weight of what had transpired was slowly flooding her. Painful guilt did not feel as bad as anticipated, but somewhere down the line it was apparent she did not cast the _Obliviator _spell before she left him. Sirius seemed to remember traces and bits from their time together, perhaps even everything.

Hermione stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, noticing the intricate detail of the hanging lanterns from overhead. Rich money decorated his room with expensive furniture that she had not noticed when being seduced up the stairs for the continuation of their romp. She absorbed the energy surrounding her, his smell intoxicated her and without realizing it, tears began to form at the corners of her eyes before streaking down the sides of her face.

She sighed quietly, not quite crying but sad all the same. He had remembered her, her entire life that she knew him growing up, he knew her. He knew what she was capable of, how she kissed, what she felt and what made her tear at his naked flesh more than anything...and she was just thirteen when they first met. She pitied him, the older Sirius, the Sirius from her own time, over all the things he had missed out on. She could only imagine his disappointment when meeting her in the shrieking shack and discovering her secret trip, or the summer they spent together cleaning out Grimmauld Place. How many times did he have to look away knowing that she was to become the woman he knew? Did he learn to secretly resent her? Did he ever wonder why? Did he ever think on it as deeply as she was now?

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon was permeating the house. Not the smell, but the jolly whistling was what brought Hermione down the stairs with slow careful steps as she neared the bottom, in hopes of poking her head around the wall to sneak a peek at Sirius.

His lips were puckered to follow their sound and his hair was messy and shaggy around his bare shoulders. He wore only a pair of thin linen pants low on his hips. Barefoot and shirtless, he flipped pancakes into the air with one hand on the pan while the other hand was poised with his wand making sure the doughy flats went back into the pan. The guilty bacon sizzled on the furthest burner.

"I took the liberty of using your shower," Hermione said, coming into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp.

Tucking his wand in his pants pocket, he turned and smirked, "I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you with clothes on." Hermione licked her lips and looked down at the floor slightly embarrassed. "But then, that's just how I intend on seeing you."

He slid his finger under her chin and raised her face to his. Sliding his hand to her cheek, he kissed her good morning a few dozen times. The last one lingered on long enough Hermione had to remind him of his pancakes still browning.

"Oh! You're right," he said scrambling away, leaving Hermione standing there empty handed as he rushed back over to the stove. She watched as he lifted the pan and tossed the pancakes onto a waiting plate and charmed two strips of bacon to follow. "Madam, your breakfast is ready."

They dined quietly together, glancing out the window occasionally and watching the clouds roll in rather violently now. It drew Sirius's attention, making him ponder in thought as his mind began to work and his brow furrowed. An opened rolled parchment, probably delivered by an owl, lay on the counter.

"So much is happening out there," he said under his breath with a sigh. "But, I meant what I said last night."

Hermione quietly sipped her hot tea and waited for him to continue.

He looked away from the window and held his fork poised to take a bite of pancake that teetered on the end, "You do help me remember what I'm fighting for."

For a moment, her heart sank. The little whisper of guilt started to flutter forward, "Sirius, I-"

"Aside from my friends, no one has helped me realize that before. Even my family doesn't matter that much to me, because their beliefs are so outlandish and prejudice that I truly have learned to hate them." He spoke so freely; his fork scraped along his plate as he ate and talked. "It's because of people like them that make it hard to live these days. So much so, that we can't even go out without worrying."

Hermione's mind was turning a thousand times a second, wanting so badly to stop this whirlwind now. Though he spoke to her about dark times, times she knew too well complete with his own cousin torturing her at the Malfoy estate, and it all was becoming too clear. However, though he discussed it all in seriousness, she could not for the life of her stop staring at him. Such beautiful tanned skin, deep hypnotic eyes and the sharp well defined features of a long aristocratic bloodline. He was royalty, no matter how much he tried to denounce it and as he spoke, the conclusion rang loud in her mind that he was beautiful both inside and out.

"...so, I won't be able to stay home today."

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione had lost herself briefly daydreaming; she hadn't heard what he had said to her.

"I said, I've got some business to do, so I won't be able to stay shacked up with you today," he winked. He noticed her staring at him. "I'll make sure you get home safe and then I'll see you tonight, that all right?"

At first, Hermione wanted to nip this in the bud and not do anything with him again, that would render her powerless like the night before, no matter how pleasurable it was. Though she believed she went through the actions for generous reasons, there was no doubt that deep down being with him made it a selfish sacrifice. After all, he was becoming harder to resist.

"Fine," she nodded, not inquiring about his business. She only assumed it was related to the Order and for that, she wouldn't ask. She must not interrupt his course any more than she had.

Sirius drove her home on the back of his motorcycle. Her body was pressed tight against him and her arms held on firmly. He drove faster than usual that afternoon, having felt a strong premonition that things were getting more and more heated. Not between them, but beyond them and around them. She was muggleborn, she was in his life and for any of his family to believe he had any kind of soft spot for her put her at much greater risk. He needed her safe and secure and behind safe walls. He had no doubt that McGonagall had secured these measures.

The familiar street came into view and Sirius cruised along the row of little houses and right into the front garden. He cut the engine as she swung her leg off, reaching into his bottomless saddlebag for her own backpack. Walking to her door, neither one said a word, for they made this feel like it was second nature.

"Get your keys out, love," Sirius instructed, not letting her out of his sight so that he knew she was safe inside.

Blindly, she reached around in her bag looking for her keys. Her fingertips grazed the chain of her Time Turner that lay at the bottom of her bag; a dull reminder that time was running out for them.

"Please be careful today, Sirius," she said looking upon him. She all of a sudden felt the urge to hug him close, almost motherly, wishing him to be safe.

"I'll be fine, but do me a favor and just stay in today. Don't go anywhere, don't go to the bookstore, just stay in." There was a sense of promise in his voice and overall concern. He sounded like he wasn't quite saying what he was feeling, but only that he was uncertain of the events about to transpire in the near future.

"Please don't make me promise you that, I've got things to do myself-"

"Please, Hermione. I don't want to have to worry today, so please promise me that you'll stay in your Aunt's house today? Send owls, read books, watch muggle TV, just don't leave."

Finally, she let out an unceremonious sigh, "All right. But, pray that I've got ink for my quills in there."

"Thank you," he nodded, relieved that she would do what he requested.

A soft finger slid down her cheek and with a second to think, he kissed her to say good-bye and turned on his heel to leave. Dropping her eyes, she shoved her shoulder against the door and stepped through, not wanting to see him leave. Hear him she would, but every time she saw him ride off on his motorcycle was a reminder of one more day closer to his condemned time.

Sirius tore himself away as well, wishing that he could stay with her that day. His heart couldn't help but beat a little quicker when he'd think of her, or how he added an extra skip in his step on the way back to his motorcycle. But, as he reached for his keys in his pockets, he was left feeling unsatisfied and turned directly around and back towards the front door.

"Hermione," he called, pushing open the door just as it reached it catch to close. His boots clicked hard on the wooden floor as he took two steps in, reached out just to see her turning around and pulled her in for a much needed kiss that would meet his momentary needs.

The door slammed shut with a fierce kick from his boot. The sound echoed loudly in the foyer where they stood.

She was barely given a second before she felt his familiar strong hands grab her waist and tug her towards him so that he could kiss her properly. Releasing a small murmur at first, his touch was soothing again and she melted against him with the willpower of peanut butter to a jelly sandwich.

It was so easy kissing Sirius, that within seconds she forget everything that was surrounding them and she started to imagine it being the older more mature Sirius with his soft velvet threads, laugh lines around his eyes and the aura of a man with stories holding her. Her eyes fell shut, almost into a deep dream state and her hands slid easily around his neck. Together their bodies met, swaying slightly, getting lost in their own oblivion.

As his lips slid over hers with ease, his strong hands held her close to protect her. Her mind went traveling, budding along into the territory she was getting too close to. Deep admiration and obvious affection for this man was no longer denied, for she had felt things with him she never thought her body could feel and for that...she was falling. Or had she already fallen? Could it be that she was in love with him, just by sealing this kiss? Or was it what he did to her the night before that confirmed it? Had he seduced her to believe this, or was she already convinced that he merely lit the fuse to her inevitable explosion.

Whatever it was, it was good. It was heartfelt and he was being received by her with open arms and an open heart.

But what about when she went home? Could they continue where they left off? Would he even have her? She was twenty-one and her Sirius was thirty-seven. Was that too much for him to handle, because for her she would be content. Sirius was the kind of man she needed: mature, intelligent, street smart and most of all responsible.

_Well, at least he's intelligent and street smart._

Hermione's mind paused and physically, she pulled away from their kiss, hoping to see his face. Gorgeous grey eyes looked back at her, full of expression and passion, it was a shame she hadn't realized this sooner. He had the potential of being an incredibly loving man, if given the chance.

His hold was deathly tight and he whispered, "Thank you for last night, love. It was so intense." He just wanted to hug her, hold her and keep her to him that it surprised even him over this unnatural reaction.

Her cheek warmed, but she was silent to hear any and all that he was saying. She would have done anything at that point, just to hear him say her name in his voice that was so comforting it was like finally finding your way home after a long journey. She laid her head down to listen to the steady beat of his heart; her eyes falling closed to imagine another moment between them.

"I really don't think I want you to go," she whispered, mostly to hear herself say it. The realization was getting deeper and deeper.

"I'll come back to you tonight," he whispered into her ear as he left small feather-like kisses along her temple. "Just please, stay inside."

Hermione murmured something of an answer that was satisfying enough, but was slightly unwilling to let him go. These newfound feelings for him were both comforting and complex. Torn deep inside, there wasn't anything she wanted more in that minute than to feel him close against her, whispering things in her ear and asking her if she liked what he was doing to her. The way he spoke, the way he walked, the way he held his chin high and proud and defiant made her just yearn for him more and at the same time, send a sinking feeling into her gut that this was all wrong.

All of it was wrong.


	26. An Order One Should Obey

_A note from Serade Black: The story is probably almost to it's 3/4 mark, if that gives you any indication where we are. We have a lot left to cover in the story, so that's why I'm putting it between it's halfway point and the 3/4 mark. For those old enough, this chapter is edited for mature audiences and the uncut version can be read at my livejournal (link on my bio page here). Please know that I adore writing Sirius. I know I'm not claiming I write him entirely canon, but I do write him the way I believe he would have been portrayed as a 22 year old. Vastly different than the Sirius we know, it's refreshing to discover the shadow of what he once was. As always, thank you for the reviews, and especially the theories of what you think is going to happen or the anticipation of the ending of Hermione returning to her own time. Special thank yous to those that mentioned the small details of Marlene, Emmaline Vance, and other small characters. I have to say that Steve Vander Ark and his Lexicon helped me a lot with this inspiration. For those that went to Azkataraz - it rocked! Finally got a Sirius/Hermione roundtable discussion in there, so I'm eager for the next con (Infinitus) to push forward with it. For now - enjoy! ~SB_

**Ch. 26 **

_**"An Order One Should Obey"**_

The Three Broomsticks was dustier than ever and darker than usual. The winds were picking up outside. Stronger than the indication that fall was settling in, it was the stir of danger and dark magic together. Two or three people hidden in the shadows mumbled quietly to each other as they paid no attention to the cloaked individual chiming in through the door. Three shrunken heads announced his arrival, but mostly for the sake of their own entertainment.

The busty bar mistress stood behind the counter and gave a curt nod to the new arrival. Madam Rosmerta was always cautious about her bar patrons these days, but she would never say no to a galleon earned. She heard the request of her customer and fixed up a nice frothing butter beer.

Money was left on the counter and the butter beer was carried to a private little nook of the pub where his former Professor sat. Her shawl was pulled tight around her neck, like she had not yet undressed from the windy weather. She kept one hand on the base of her wine glass, while the other protectively clutched around her wand in her lap. She greeted her guest with a stiff smirk and relaxed her shoulders once she was joined in the candle light.

"Mr. Lupin, what did you have to talk to me about that couldn't wait until tomorrow?" she asked, folding her fingers on the small wooden table before them.

Remus pulled back the hood of his traveling cloak, revealing his sandy brown hair and a few scars across his face. He sipped his butter beer and carried an unprepared delivery when requesting McGonagall's meeting.

"Sorry, Professor-"

"Minerva, Remus. You're far beyond Hogwarts. I've told you that several times over."

Remus nodded and feigned a thin smile, "Minerva, right. I won't take up much of your time, but I wanted to talk about...your niece."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow and her lips went thin, "My niece?"

"Hermione?"

"Rose?" she nearly corrected, but caught herself, "Hermione, yes. We used to call her Rose, but..."

McGonagall's voice trailed off, as if frustrated with trying to cover it up. She was normally a woman with stronger patience, but with Hermione changing her name without fair warning was a bit wearing and finally the honesty paled over her face.

"She's not your niece, is she?" Remus tested, his lips just leaving the glass of the butter beer mug.

She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head slightly, "I think you and I both know she's not my niece, Remus." The silence settled a few seconds before she continued, "Why, what's happened?"

At first Remus expected himself to be surprised, but found it intriguing that none of this had caught him off guard and instead just regarded the situation very carefully.

"She's fine. But, it's her situation that I am somewhat worried about, at the present time." Remus looked away to the dusty beam overhead where two mice scurried above them. He was trying to begin his inquiry. "I may have seen something of hers that might raise a few questions. It is mostly my concern for her safety at the present time."

McGonagall's eyes were slits as she tried to read his thoughts before they left his lips, fearful he may say more than what was safe. She rose her glass to her lips very regally, like she were sitting with a King, but really it was to hide her immediate breath of guilt. She would not normally have given up so quickly, but considering the danger that lurked all around them, she felt it fair to hear her former student out.

"Continue, Mr. Lupin."

"It only made sense to me a few days ago, when it dawned on me about a book she was reading. It's called The White Line by-"

"Say no more. I know the book. It's quite controversial at the moment, as I've heard about it from Madam Pince. But, I think I know where you're going with it." With beaten breath, she gently shook her head. "Before you or I jeopardize any pertinent information, perhaps it's best if we just carefully speak about this."

Remus nodded, understanding fully about the fragile situation and how it was very necessary not to draw it out into too much conversation. He glanced down at his scarred hands, trying to think about better wording.

"Prof- Minerva, I think it's best to tell you about what she's been doing or rather-"

"Careful Remus."

"I know," he started quietly. "What I mean is...is that Sirius is growing rather fond of her; attached even. And if she's wearing...that is, if I saw what I'm pretty sure I saw...and you say she is not truly your niece..."

"Sirius fond of any girl does not surprise me."

"No mum, this is different. Like James to Lily...that kind of attached. To put it lightly, it's obvious that they're together."

"Together? As in dating?"

"Yes, Minerva."

"But she can't...she's wearing a...this will seriously corrupt...that's not what it was intended for! Surely, you're just misreading a few things?"

Remus sighed, shaking his head. His fringe fell into his eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not. In her defense, I believe it is a street that runs both ways. She is quite taken with him."

"Well," she said, rather calmly, "I will have to speak to Sirius when I see him. I think it's time that she goes home. The way things are moving out there, no one is safe from anything and I certainly don't want someone who shouldn't even be here be taken up in the midst of it."

Remus felt like a small balloon was slowly deflating from within. He rather liked Hermione, but he liked her more for his best friend that seemed to quietly envy James for what he had. A brief moment of guilt swept over him, wondering if what he had done was the right thing. Upon hearing the last words of his former Professor he merely nodded, not wishing to think of the aftermath should Sirius lose his own version of a Lily.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione crossed the line she knew she should never have crossed. She had devoured the forbidden fruit and the snake was rearing its ugly head against her. The rippling effects of the future for Sirius had been set. He remembered this time, the emotions...all with her. It was no wonder he was how he was with her in the future: always arguing, putting up a decent jovial front, and the mood swings. Granted, Harry was a more important factor in his time than she was, but certainly from the moments between them that she could recall, she played an important role in his character.

Sirius was now a man that had been abandoned, scorned even, only to be betrayed and disappointed upon his return. How lonely he must have truly felt while alone in the house of Grimmauld Place; thinking back on her, his relationship with Harry, his future and what it held. All of it was just too much to imagine for sanity. What did Sirius believe once Hermione returned? Was he waiting for her? Was he waiting to talk to her about what had transpired between them when he was younger? How were they going to interact, how were they going to fight together in the Order, how were they going to explain it?

Whatever it was, it made Hermione uneasy for the rest of the day. She wondered what Sirius was thinking, but more about where he was. She had paced for a good amount of time thinking about his safety and any rash decisions made at this time of war. She'd already put him in a new mental state than he had been, for he was growing more and more attached to her for obvious reasons.

She lied awake staring at the shadows on the ceiling taking shapes of horrible beings to elegant flowers, from the confines of her bed. The house was settling around her. Ticking clocks rang their first morning hour and still no owl to inform her that her wizard in thought was all right.

Somewhat restless, she pushed herself out of bed and decided to take a shower to relieve her mind of its bothering concern. She stood under the showerhead for a long period of time, hoping the warm water would wash away some of the mental weight that wore heavy on her shoulders. Pictures of him in the future flashed through her mind, almost believing that it was a different person entirely, but it was still all the same soul. The younger jovial Sirius that she'd spent so much time with was just a shadow of what he'd become, but nevertheless he was still there in the Sirius that she had first met. The sparkle in his eye still held a presence and whether she chose to believe it or not, he did seem to have some sort of minute effect on her that had made her breathless on one or more occasion during her teen years.

Her hair was still damp after vigorous towel drying. She slipped on her thin robe that she had borrowed from McGonagall and without looking at the hour for the umpteenth time went down to the kitchen for a hot cup of tea to help her sleep.

"Lumos," she said, extending her wand before she stepped onto the landing.

Quiet treaded steps took her down the stairs and she illuminated a candle whenever she'd pass by one. She passed through the hallway, through the sitting room and into the kitchen where she waved her wand again, "Nox."

She had only one light illuminated to help her see, for she was afraid that any light she gave off out the windows might disrupt the neighbors whose house did sit rather close. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat up.

While she gathered up her preparations for when the kettle was ready, she glanced towards the outside window towards the front of the house, believing that her peripheral may have caught something in the shadows. Realizing that her mind alone in the house was merely playing tricks on her, she paid little attention as she believed it may have been a prowling cat. But, when her ears failed to deceive her from the bang of the front gate, her heart jumped into her throat with a start. Her immediate reaction was to blow out the candles of her lantern. She did not wish to draw attention to herself up late in the wee hours of morning.

She heard the definite sound of crunching leaves just outside the kitchen door, indicating that whatever it was stood right on her doorstep. Hermione slowly began to aim her wand at the door, wary of who, or what, it may be that might try and force their way into the house. Then, without a second though, she watched the doggy door begin to move and soon opened its covering flap to allow a familiar looking dog to pass through. It only took a second to recognize the well groomed handsome head with the shiny midnight coat as her wizard in disguise.

The doggy door flapped back and forth in place as Sirius transformed from his Animagus form into that of the man. Sirius hadn't seen her when he first stuck his canine head through the door, but when he was a man again and looked over, he froze. A moment passed between them as their eyes met, unsure of what to say. Only known to a select few, Sirius was stunned when his illegal act was witnessed, remembering that she somehow had figured it out.

"Sirius," she whispered absolutely in awe. She had seen him transform before, a few times, but it was the way he looked at her just then when he just came out of his Animagus form that took her breath away. As if it were the first time she honestly felt the talent radiating from him with such ease, made her mind blank and her heart flutter lightly.

His secret was out and at first he didn't know how to handle it, but soon it was clear that she was meant to know. He saw her dressed in her night robe, her hair damp and her face illuminated by the moonlight shining in from the kitchen window. Like a rose in a bed of thorns, she never looked so appealing.

He couldn't stand to not touch her and so he slowly stepped towards her, approaching as if she were a timid animal before him. She had barely whispered his name, giving him no indication yet of where she stood. However, one thing was certain; she mesmerized him with her captivated eyes.

"You knew I was an Animagus," he said coming closer, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor.

He came into her personal space and calmly lowered her wand away from him, like talking down a jumper from a high ledge. She could only nod for him at first, absolutely mystified by his entire being. He exuded sexiness like cologne. Just the tone of his voice, careful and cautious, made her weaker than she'd ever care to admit, making her believe that if she wasn't already falling in love with him, she certainly was now.

He stepped closer to her; his belt buckle practically rubbing up against her. "You're not afraid of me?" There was insecurity in his voice, like he couldn't believe she was still standing there with him.

Still with nothing to say, she slowly shook her head and he was already reaching out to hold her face in his palms to pull her into a much needed kiss. A kiss that he couldn't stop thinking about his entire run there. Still wearing the clothes he left her in, he never wanted to be more naked with her. The fire within him started to blaze with the secret that she was the only other woman, except for Lily, that knew what he could do. Above all else, she didn't run and was desperately falling against him in eager response.

Hermione dropped her wand and ran her hands around his back like he had lit her fuse enough and the dynamite was about to set off. She made small sounds against his mouth as his hands pulled her against him tightly, making them one and feeling the closeness and her lack of clothing underneath.

They wanted this, they had worked themselves up over it and finally she felt his hands beginning to untie her bathrobe with such haste pace that she knew no time was going to be left to make any second decisions about what they were about to do. No more fighting with her conscience, no more testing the rules, no more worrying and no longer could she deny herself the desire and need of his bare hands on her skin.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Order of the Phoenix had just disbanded their meeting. Chairs were returned to their various spots about the hidden house of Emmeline Vance. The circular table that sat in the wide dining room shrunk down to its normal size as people removed themselves from alongside of it.

Just throwing on his coat, Sirius was carefully pulling his collar out. He fixed the sleeves at the wrists of the coat and waited until Remus and Peter were ready to leave with him. He waited by the door, eager to get along as his brain was filled with buzzing plans of the meeting and future plans of the night ahead.

"Come on, Moony! Wormtail?" he called out over his fellow Order members, as his friend lingered behind while speaking to Caradoc Dearborn, who was wearing a rather furry coat for this season.

"Good night, Sirius." Emmeline Vance had just walked over to bid him good night and it appeared that she had added a certain grace in her step so that she might otherwise attract him.

"Good night, Emmie. Be careful out there, all right?" He took her hand to his lips, but it was offered in only the most platonic way. He had no further interest in her beyond being a fellow Order member, and that alone served as too great a risk to get involved. It hadn't occurred to him yet, that it was the subconscious reasoning for his lack of recruitment of Hermione, to their cause.

"Mr. Black, a word?" McGonagall had just noticed Sirius getting ready to leave. He was one of the first to leave the circular table in the dining room. Her voice carried through the house, enough so that Remus had heard her.

"Excuse me, Emmie," he ended, releasing her hand. He was careful not to flirt with his eyes, since he had a terrible tendency for being misunderstood. He left her company with dignity and went to join his former professor alone along the shaded windows of the sitting room.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Sirius, really, it's Minerva. Remus and James can get it right, so why do you insist on being so stubborn?" She already appeared to be anxious about her intended vague conversation.

"When you leave Hogwarts, I'll drop the Professor. Or, until I become one."

For a moment there was an obvious flicker of worry, not ready for Sirius to return to Hogwarts any time soon and with a teaching title, no less. She feigned a smile and nodded, "Right, I look forward to that." Somehow Sirius only half believed her, but waited for her to continue. "Sorry, I'll make this quick as we don't have a lot of time and I've got a surprise test in the morning. Can you relay a message to my niece?"

"To Hermione?" he asked with a half smirk and raised eyebrow as he thought fondly on what they'd done in his former professor's kitchen.

"Yes, please," she smoothed down the brim of her hat as she fastened it on for her journey back to Hogwarts castle. "Tell her it's time to go home."

"To go home, Professor?" Sirius was unclear and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, home. She needs to return home. I don't think it's wise that she lingers so far away and her parents will be very glad to keep her close. Surely, you understand the risks?"

"I hate to disagree-"

"Then don't."

She was quick to end the conversation about Hermione. She tied the chin strap over her neck so that her hat wouldn't fall off when traveling and she ended the conversation on the matter right then and there. She brushed past him, but turned as she reached the door just when Sirius was sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Mister Black, please don't linger over my request. Hermione will be safer at home and not locked away unable to contact anyone. She's far from where she belongs," she paused, wondering how much Sirius knew, if anything at all. "Make sure she goes home by tomorrow."

With a finalizing slam, McGonagall was out the door and probably halfway through the Apparation to the front gates of Hogwarts. As he imagined Filch standing there looking irritated and intimidated behind iron gates, Sirius continued to stare at the door, trying to rationalize what just happened.


	27. Everything Becomes Clear

_A note from Serade Black:__ Thank you for the reviews and I have to say that even the small bit of me loved how angry everyone got over the first mention of Hermione going home, after so many just couldn't wait until she did. Great smile on my face. Now, for those that do enjoy my style of writing, I love the compliments, but know that in no way do I believe myself to be a great writer, I just consider myself a decent story teller. So, thank you! By the way, this was written (or revamped) while cruising on a Virgin Train from London to Holyhead, so my husband and I could take the Irish Ferry to Dublin._

Ch. 27

The balmy wind was moist and unfriendly as it blew across Sirius's stone face that was set in thought. His body sat naturally on the back of the motorbike, his arms relaxed, but his grip on the handlebars was tense. His hair flew wildly around his head; he was otherwise too preoccupied to tie it back into a restraint.

Leaving the Order meeting stirred up several unfamiliar emotions in Sirius. He made a promise with his friends that he would obey the requests of wiser older members of the secret society in order to be a part of it. Though clever and powerful, his generation was still thought of as students and sometimes reckless with their decisions (although, contrary to what Dumbledore may think, his and James's narrow escape from both Death Eaters and the muggle police was rather ingenious). But, it was the mental turmoil he was battling as he rode into the night air in the direction of his former Professor's home.

Taking so long to get to know a witch, only to discover that she was the type of woman he was unknowingly searching for, was hell. He was plagued with the idea of her departure - going back to America. Sure he could travel, but even traveling by Floo Network Local was risky and dangerous, let alone Floo Network International. Though one might attempt to cross over the pond, who knows if that network wasn't the first to be infiltrated with Death Eaters? Speaking through the fires would only satisfy him for so long, not to mention the risk of losing her to a nice American wizard closer to her. Then who would protect her? _Truly _protect her? Sirius wanted to be that wizard for her and not just because he was incredibly selfish to want to see her every day or spend all hours making love to her or just knowing that he didn't have to try and impress her with his good looks and suave skills. She just wasn't that type. But, she was _his _type.

Sirius Black was definitely falling in love.

The rumbling of the engine echoed down the street as he touched down onto the earth from being camouflaged by low clouds. He pulled into the small drive of the house and parked his bike. He felt like he had lead in his boots, his steps were so slow and heavy. His mind was racing around what he was going to have to say, how he was going to say it and lastly, if he said it at all. Surely, if she remained in the house on Marley Street, Professor McGonagall would know and ultimately, take it out on Sirius for disobeying her direct orders.

As the door got closer and his steps slower, his heart began to beat a few paces quicker with the idea of seeing her after a long day. But, as much as he couldn't wait to set eyes on her, he truly didn't want to speak to her.

Before he had reached the top step, Hermione had already sensed his presence and swung open the front door. She met him with a glowing smile that showed her near perfect teeth and wearing nothing fancier than a pair of blue jeans and green hoodie. To her it was plain, but to him it was fitting, because he realized he didn't need all of the other things to make her his type.

He took a step over the threshold and put a hand on her cheek to kiss her. His lips smoothed over hers softly, but intimately enough to just slide his tongue past hers. He felt her hands guide up his arms to rest around his shoulders, welcoming him warmly with a homecoming. He slid his hands easily around her waist, pulling her in so that they were as close as two lovers could be.

"I've a confession to make," she whispered as their lips parted.

"What's that?" His voice was quiet with her; he gently nuzzled his nose with hers.

"I didn't stay in today. I know, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't. I had things to do and -"

"I figured you wouldn't. I can't keep you locked up, even if it is for your own good."

She grinned at him for a few seconds before kissing him again. Something about having him back again and not with much time left to spend with him made her feel very needy. She wanted to cherish him, love him, and still somehow convey to him that he does matter to people in the future. Even if they weren't going to be the way they are now.

"Let's go out, tonight. Dinner? A walk? Let's just get out," he suggested. They were still standing in the doorway with their arms around each other; the night air brought a chill into the house behind them.

"I'd like that."

For a few moments, the danger outside lurking around dark alleys seemed to be pressed to the back of her mind. Perhaps some of his irresponsibility was starting to rub off on her?

The dinner was spent together in a small muggle Italian restaurant that Sirius enjoyed. Small conversation was shared, but mostly it was enjoyed with at least one hand being held. Their shoes crossed over once or twice, giving comfort that the other was there.

A couple of times, Sirius charmed the waiter to make "googly" eyes at Hermione whenever he'd return to the table. Fortunately, Hermione knew the counter curse and half way through dinner the waiter began making "googly" eyes at Sirius. It then proceeded to make him rather uncomfortable and he surrendered to her cleverness after the waiter dropped his napkin to the floor just to check out Sirius's thighs.

"So, you haven't asked me where I go when I've left you," he said, after the waiter had long forgotten all about him thanks to a sly wink from Hermione.

"Well, it's none of my business," she said, busying herself with a sip from her newly filled glass. She already knew he was going to Order meetings.

"Yes, it is," he corrected. "I want you to know where I go. At least I want you to care, where I go."

"I care!" she said, perhaps a little too quick and too loud. She cleared her throat and looked around, seeing if anyone had noticed her changed volume.

"I'm glad. But, just in case....well, if I don't come back-"

"Sirius, please don't."

"Hermione, I don't want you to get the wrong idea if something were to happen to me."

"Don't worry, I won't," she said. He raised an eyebrow at her words. "I mean, I won't get the wrong idea if you didn't come back. I mean...this is coming out all wrong." She thought about herself not coming back to him when he gets taken away to Azkaban.

Sirius was not convinced. He eyed the last cooked tomato on his plate and stuck it with his fork, holding it out to feed her. Her lips curved and she leaned in close enough to open her mouth. Very gently, he fed her the tomato and said, "I'm a member of a secret society against Voldemort."

She nearly choked and looked around the restaurant to make sure no one had heard him. Her eyes landed back on him and she shushed him as she chewed quickly. "Keep your voice down!"

"Oh, you can't be afraid to say his name, Hermione. Fear of a name only increases the fear itself," he said as a matter of fact and resumed to pick at any remainders on his plate unimpressed by her scolding.

Hermione quickly played it off that she was only frightened of him saying the name and not of the Order itself. She cleared her throat again and took another sip of wine to calm her nerves that seemed to be wearing thin with their conversation.

"Anyway, you seem like you would be the type to fight with us, but just for the record, you're not allowed to join."

"Excuse me? Why? You don't think I could fight?"

"No, that's not it all. I don't want you to fight. So, before you learn any more of it, I am not recruiting you so let us make sure that's clear. Beyond that, I want you no part of it. But, I just thought you should know where I went off to in the event that I don't return to you someday." His voice was not concerned and went on as if he was talking about the weather to anyone that would listen. It was almost as if he just enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice ramble on.

"Sirius, please let's not talk about this right now," Hermione insisted. She picked up her fork to resume eating, but had otherwise lost her appetite with Sirius's dismal conversation and reminder that his fate was soon to come.

"No, I think we should, love," he said in the tone almost like a parent. "Things are rather heated now both outdoors and indoors," he looked up to give her an obvious wink, "and I thought it best that you know just in case I get blown up, or worse, killed."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she bit her lower lip, but not in any other manner than just beginning to worry about his safety. She could not meet his eyes, for fear that she would allow her emotions get the better of her and send her into a fit of brewing tears. It saddened her to think that in the next few days he would be wrongfully locked up and absolutely devastated. That alone was enough to make her set her fork down and tilt her face away so that he could not see her eyes beginning to well up. She used her hand to shield herself from the rest of the restaurant as she quietly composed herself.

"...so, on that note, I spoke with your Aunt today."

Hermione quickly looked up, her eyes bright and slightly teary. "You did?"

"Yes, and she, ah, had me relay a message to you."

"And what was that?" Hermione asked as she used the corner of her napkin to dab under her eyes. Her stomach was barely settling at the mention of McGonagall.

Sirius took a moment to persuade himself to not tell her the truth of her insisted departure. He had waited for the right time to mention it, just to keep his conscience clear and honest, but something within was telling him otherwise. "She gave me instructions for you," he started, setting his own fork down. Things were falling too well into perspective and her worked up emotional state over the thought of him dying was a bit of a clincher for him. He didn't want to send her away. So, before he could second think anything he spat out, "She said you should stay with me."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in subtle shock while Sirius continued to look down at the base of his wineglass. The two were silent for only a couple of seconds before she asked, "She said I should stay with you?"

Sirius nodded slightly, for he could barely believe he had said it himself. If anything, he was preparing for some sort of rejection, no realizing that their relationship had only just been consummated a few days ago. The mention of her moving in with him, for however long left him slightly dazed, but confident. All he could do was sit and wait and see if it was something she would consider if it meant she would stay for a little bit longer.

"At your house?"

His eyes slowly met hers under a curtain of black fringe framing his handsome sharp face. His features were shadowed by the low light.

"Until you go home," he quietly added, as if it would lighten the shock on her. He was having a hard time reading her.

Hermione sighed and let his words sink into her without any doubt in her mind that he was fibbing. "She's worried about me, isn't she?"

He hesitated at first, but then nodded, "She is."

They shared a moment between each other, letting unspoken words transpire as the restaurant ambiance tinkered around them. The soft music in the background added a personal soundtrack as they took in the time they had left on both parts.

Then a slow realization surfaced that Sirius may not be giving her the complete message and otherwise interpreted it through his own thoughts and feelings. But, the way he looked to her, so hopeful, so sincere, there was no way she was going to be able to say no to him.

"She wants me to go home, doesn't she?" she questioned.

Sirius grimaced and looked away, slightly nodding. Then, he looked back at her and said in a whisper, "_I _don't want you to go home."

The sad inflection in his voice was like a quiet little soldier waving a white flag. He was not very good at lying, for his sincerity bled through. He was composed, reserved and not the wild, ungrounded man that he was perceived to be. He had displayed a child-like innocence within; something only his friends saw. It tugged at her heartstrings to know that he wanted her to stay with him, even if he had no idea how short lived it would be.

Everything thus far had told her to go home. What she'd done, what she'd gotten involved in, what she had experienced were all vicious taboos that made the Memory Charm necessary. However, her heart told her no. She wanted to stay with him and even if McGonagall recommended otherwise, she would stay with him until the end.

"All right," she said barely in her own voice.

His eyes met hers brightly, "All right, you'll stay with me?" He couldn't help but flash a slight boyish smile.

_This is incredibly irresponsible!_

"Yes, I'll stay with you," she swallowed, "until I go home." Her Time Turner was practically burning against her skin under her shirt.

He was fine to hear only the first part of her answer, because the last half was a dulling dismal reminder of what he would try and prevent. Sure there was more out there than the two of them sitting at the small table in the restaurant, but what good was fighting a deadly battle if you forget what you're fighting for?

After dinner, the two of them rode back into the thick darkness on his motorcycle. The moist air kissed their faces as if the sky had been crying. Lately, the clouds never cleared, the sun barely shined and everywhere you went you feared death was following you. Rising up into the air pressed tightly and secured behind her wizard was no longer giving her the rush she wanted to revel in, for every rev of the engine, or touching down on the streets, was one more ride closer to his last. He showed such joy in taking her along with him or just riding about into the air, that it was going to be like yanking a favorite toy from a child when his last days came upon him. As the tips of his hair tickled her face, she closed her eyes to imagine if he would still enjoy riding a motorcycle.

The cleansing of McGonagall's house was much easier than anticipated. She hadn't spread her books out all over the little cottage house, but only over the span of a few rooms. She occupied Sirius with allowing him to tidy up the dishes with the charmed scrub brush, while she tossed books into her bottomless backpack as quickly as she could. She did her best to hide suspicious titles from curious eyes. Once packed, Hermione left a note on the table thanking her "Aunt" for her hospitality and a promise to see her very soon. With a last flick of her wrist, the door was locked, the doggy door was blocked and she was already back on the motorcycle behind Sirius with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Tea love?" Sirius asked as he opened the front door with a slight flick of his wrist where his wand was extended. He had her backpack over his shoulder and was holding the door open as she walked passed him into the foyer.

"Yes, please," she said, shrugging her sweater off her shoulders.

The house had a warmer feeling to it when Hermione walked inside. Something comforting in the air met her senses; she listened carefully to every single sound settling in the house. She walked ahead of him towards the kitchen, knowing her way rather well by this time, until her arm was grabbed and she was swung around quickly with her back up against the hallway wall.

He was on her like he'd just met her in a dark alley with no thought to her comfort. He kissed her full and hard, like he might have known they didn't have a lot of time. He wanted to make sure she remembered that kiss. His hands roamed down the sides of her body, squeezing her waist and making her arms drape around his neck.

The intensity of his kiss lightened, pulling away slowly and leaving her eyes half closed. He heard his name fall quietly from her lips in a sigh and he gently rubbed his nose along the side of her ear. The tick of the clock chimed the half hour and their dream was lifting and bringing them back to the foyer of the house.

"I just wanted you to know how pleased I am that you're here and close. I don't want to have to worry about you." His voice was desperate, but passionate, like a man with only a few last requests.

"I'm not a bird to be caged, Sirius. The world will still get me," she replied coming out of her hypnotic trance unwillingly.

"I know, but I want to keep you to myself for as long as possible."

Minimal words, but he still looked upon her like she held the world for him. His silky locks were soft between her fingers as she stroked the back of his neck lovingly. As she took in the curve of his nose, the raise of his eyebrow, and his sharpness of his jaw, she'd never realized the resemblance he shared with his cousin Bellatrix. A sad reminder of his fate and the curse of the Black bloodline.

"I'm a very selfish man," he mumbled into her neck as he pulled her in close again.

With his arms wrapping around her, he cradled her against him. With their intimacy evolving to a stronger respect, they embraced in more of a holy sense. Their bodies were close, hipbones touched, hearts beat with the song of need and both chins resting on the other's shoulder. They took on a nice sway, no longer needing the wall for support.

As her heart beat strong, her head was light. He proceeded to stroke the back of her head to him in a more desirable fashion. Ever so attracted to one another, it was the want and need of the other that was feeding this tender moment in the foyer of his house. It elevated Hermione to a new emotion, confirming that it wasn't just him that wanted her there; it was she needing him to hold her. For the first time in a man's arms, she felt protected. Danger lurked everywhere, the battle ensued and still she never felt safer than in the arms of Sirius Black.

He kissed her temple, down her cheek bone and then back up along her earlobe. His fingers would graze over her skin where he had left a kiss, worshipping every small area. Entirely grateful that he was able to discover her, he was even more grateful that she was falling for him in the same fashion. The proof was his name being whispered over and over again by the tip of her tongue.

His lips ran softly over her ear, "Я думаю, что я нуждаюсь в Вас."

"What?"

"I think I need you."

She held him tight, clutching him warmly and defiantly to all those that would appose and let his words sink deep into her core. It settled into her nicely, like she had wanted him to say it and that's why she did not pull away. She continued to allow herself to revel in the strong arms that came around to rest on her hips and lightly stroke her back, only to find herself drifting into the same thoughts he had. She wanted so badly to return it for him, anything, something, to let him know that she was there for him. She would gladly be that beacon of hope in his later years, if he wanted her.

She tightened her grip to an almost too honest confession, because she wanted to tell him why she was there. She wanted to let him know what he meant to so many in the future, that having this moment was just one of many, if he allowed it. His heart was so untarnished now and willing to accept something good. Like his brother-like friendship to James, it was an honest and true feeling for his friend. Something both men needed in their lives. He needed Remus as well, for Remus always seemed to be the shadowed friend that was not held as special as James. But, as he'll soon learn, friends are your family, because regardless they will always love and help you.

Then, without thinking, she opened him up to her heart, "I think I need you, too."

Every bit of him seized that very moment. Never before in his life had he felt so complete, so favored and so honest for a woman before. She welcomed him in closely, lovingly and she returned his kiss freely and as spiritually as he'd ever dreamed. She was quickly becoming his home, his safe place, his world away from danger and it was all something he didn't realize he needed, but it was worth exploring, even if she had to return to where she came from.

Once their interlude had subsided, both their hearts racing, Sirius pulled away to interlace his hand with hers to take her along into the kitchen for that tea he had promised. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight, even if just for a second, because she just seemed too good to be true for him.

Her long brown wavy hair rested romantically over her shoulders that made it difficult for him to look away. Once again, he had her pressed up against the counter of the kitchen and with a teasing finger he ran it over her arm with a flirty wink. He tried to entice her with his sultry eyes peering from beneath wispy black locks, but she turned away and pulled her wand out to charm the tea kettle.

With her back to him, Sirius slinked in close and rested his hands on her waist. He slid his arms further around her and rested his chin gently on her shoulder. He watched the way she held her wand loosely in her fingers from charming the kettle and then setting it down on the counter to free both her hands to slide over his that circled her waist. He hugged her close, taking in her fragrant scent that made his senses soar. Her skin felt soft against his cheek as he nuzzled her, leaving a few kisses on her bare neck.

Her eyes closed as his sincere caressing felt so natural and right. His arms protected her, his body fit perfect with hers and he was able to make her feel so beautiful with only the mildest of touches. Together they swayed as one while standing there in the kitchen, like they'd done it several times before. Alone in their own world, they felt free to conquer.

Hermione was immediately startled when the fireplace across the room lit up in a greenish flame and two people came staggering out of it, having traveled via Floo Network. Their balloon of privacy was deflating as the two individuals dusted themselves up and looked about the room. Remus and Peter called out Sirius's name, but refrained from raising their volume when they saw their friend snuggling close to Hermione.

"I'm here," Sirius said while standing behind Hermione. His hands were slowly moving off of her. "Look mates, we're going to have to come with some sort of code."

"Sorry mate," Peter said rather curt, "didn't know!"

Remus saw Hermione first and for a split second, it was almost as if he was ashamed to look at her. She felt a slight burn in her throat when their eyes met and a silent exchange passed, but it was obvious it was not to be spoken of.

"What is it? Wormtail, why are you so jittery?" Sirius asked while coming out from behind Hermione, who had since stepped away from Sirius as well to let the men speak. She picked the kettle up off the stove and proceeded to make tea without being too nosy.

"Sorry to intrude, Hermione," Remus said as he walked to the counter. When they met eyes again, he nodded politely. "Sirius, we can't waste time. James and Lily have to hide. Snape came to us-"

"SNAPE!" Sirius interjected and looked absolutely appalled. The mere name of Snape made Sirius forget about tea that Hermione was currently stirring and summon a beer from his refrigerator.

"Yes, he's one of us, now!" Peter piped in, waving a finger to Hermione as if she was a cute little girl.

Hermione forced a smile as she listened in, though quietly repulsed by his very being. Already, Peter's words were crawling with disloyalty to the men that stood in that room and it was making her stomach lurch with the future outcome. But, the raised voices between Sirius and Remus were beginning to get a little too distracting.

"The hell he is! He's a fucking Death Eater, don't be daft!"

"He's right, Sirius. Snape has turned sides-"

"He's Voldemort's puppy, just like the rest of the lot. There's no way that git-"

"Sirius, we have to go on Dumbledore's word! There's no arguing. Snape went to him claiming-" Remus was beginning to feel that he was trying to argue with a wall. He was, however, used to this.

"He's a liar!" Sirius shouted, slamming his open palm against his kitchen counter. The two other wizards watched him cautiously, afraid to press on with their long time friend.

"There's no way I'm going to believe a word that drops from that-"

"Sirius, someone has been slipping information to You-Know-Who about our goings on," Remus finally squeezed it. Peter stood next to him like a silent cheerleader.

Slowly, Sirius disregarded his interest in Hermione that stood behind him making tea and went sheet white over the news. His shouting had subsided and calm insanity began to creep in. "What? Who? An Order member? Certainly not. I would gladly die for any of those people, just like I would for you two! Merlin's Beard, if I find out who it is...I'll...I'll..."

"Sirius, calm down! Don't just jump to conclusions, yet-" Remus attempted, but Sirius's temper was rising quicker than on full moon during a transformation.

Hermione felt that she needed to make herself scarce, so she ducked away with her tea in hand and retired to a less populated part of the kitchen counter. She could see her handsome dark wizard becoming increasingly more threatening by the tone of his voice and the balling of his fists. However, her attention wasn't on Sirius so much as it was on Peter. She remained uninvolved, but acutely aware of the conversation at hand. It was like reading the prequel of a good saga that she'd known her whole life and it was the one silver moment to learn the truth of where things began. As much as she hated, truly hated Peter, she needed to feign a tolerance for the rat in order to remain convincing. But, her eyes were on him like a hawk, watching him fidget and squirm in his own shoes.

"Calm down?" Sirius yelled. His voice sounded like a bullet shot and Hermione jumped at his temper exploding. "Moony, what part of this can I be calm about? They have to hide. They have to go into hiding, that's it. And I..." Before he could finish, Sirius glanced over to Hermione and let his voice fade out. She was a tortured reminder of his duty.

"We're staying at James's house tomorrow night to add more charms and jinxes on the house," Remus finally got a word in.

"For a final drink," Sirius said under his breath.

"Dumbledore is there now. We can't let this wait....we have to act now, as _you _would say."

"It's for their sake and Harry's," Peter charmed, slightly hesitant. "They're starting the spells tonight. It'll be a long process, so we're going there tomorrow to help with the extra sealing charms." His confidence was beaming. He tried so hard to finally find his place and between the three of them, he felt like he had, but his insistence proved his guilt. Even his tone of voice was misguiding, as he made protection spell casting at the Potters' house like an invite to a party.

For a few minutes, the last thing heard was the pouring of amber liquid into a short glass on the counter. Sirius had made his way to his liquor cabinet and taken out a bottle Jack Daniels muggle whiskey. Nothing magic, just old fashioned liquor that made bad things go away. He lifted the glass to his lips and knocked back the contents as if he were the only one in the room. As the glass was slammed back down on the counter, Sirius ran his free hand through his tousled black locks.

"Tomorrow," he said low and gravely, almost hoarse. He did not look around, but straight down at the half empty bottle before he finished his thought, "At James and Lily's. I'll be there." The sound of defeat in his voice indicated that the Marauders Age was coming to an end and the unstoppable quad was now at a crossroad that their very reputation was at stake - one of their own had been threatened and it was all too real to comprehend.

Remus nodded, satisfied that it was the best answer he was going to be able to get. He glanced to Hermione, but she was preoccupied with watching Sirius pour another glass and empty it as if it were pumpkin juice from Hogwarts breakfast. He noticed the genuine concern she had for him.

Sirius looked up and met her eyes and the two made a silent exchange that provoked Sirius into walking around the kitchen counter and resting a hand on the small of her back, "We'll be there."

"Sirius..." she whispered, but it was Remus that was declaring his concern.

"Sirius, I don't think it's the right place for her to be-"

"She comes with me!" he yelled. The harboring animal was slowly creeping out; his temper was a short fuse.

Peter nodded his head to his friend and glanced at Remus, "Fine, whatever you want, Sirius."

"I have to warn you that things might not go as-"

"I know how they might not go, Remus! I've seen all of this coming and now for you two to confirm that someone has been leaking information through...it just disgusts me! After all that we've been trying to prove...after all that we've been fighting for! We're the young ones for Merlin's sakes! We're the ones who are supposed to be making a difference and now I hear we've got a spy amongst us? How do I know it's not one of you two?""Sirius, please!" Remus pled. There was desperation in his voice.

"Just go, both of you! I need to think this out. My head is completely fucked."

Sirius ran another hand through his hair; his mind was in complete disarray. His insides were crawling and he felt so unsure of himself with his quickly rising temper that he forced himself to be grounded with the slightest touch of Hermione's hand that lay lonely on the counter top.

Suddenly unsure of Sirius's state, she threw a sympathy look towards Remus who was otherwise just shaking his head as if telling her not to bother. It concerned her that he'd lashed out on Remus. Peter, show wouldn't care, but Remus? He had always supported Sirius in the past, their future that it pained her to know that he come up short with his werewolf friend - didn't they know they were going to be the only ones left? Didn't he know that Remus wanted so badly to help Sirius and even moved in with him at Grimmauld Place during her fifth year so he wouldn't be lonely?

No, he didn't. Because, Remus wasn't James.

"Good luck," Remus whispered to Hermione and he turned to leave them. He put a hand on Peter's shoulders and the two walked back to the fireplace in moments disappeared, leaving Sirius and Hermione to their own thoughts.

There was an immediate stillness in the house. Sirius finished another glass of whiskey and was already pouring another when the old Hermione took his glass away the second it touched his lips. His mouth still suspended ready to take a drink. He glanced over surprised, unready and without any warning, she slapped him clear across the face. His brow furrowed and in a flash the two of them changed.

She knew he would not recoil, or at least, the older Sirius she knew wouldn't. Lash out on her he might, but hit her he would never and so she stood her ground. She was appalled at how he treated Remus, tossing him aside like his help didn't matter. She knew the devotion Remus had to Sirius. Even in his weakest days when he first left Azkaban, Remus saw him as a forgiven brother.

"What did-"

"How dare you yell at Remus the way you did! Can't you see? He's trying to help you! He's trying to help the situation and you just bit at him like he didn't even matter!"

"Hermione, you don't know what's going on! You don't even have the slightest idea what we're into!"

"Don't tell me that! I do and I'm not about to have you drag me into it!" she spat, not thinking completely what she saying.

"You don't and it's best you don't ask! But, I will not let you tell me how to view people-" Sirius's temper was rising, he was angry and he was angry at her. His eyes bore down her and she saw the manic man that screamed in the Wanted posters when she was thirteen.

"People? That was Remus! Your brother, your friend...your best friend!"

"James is my best friend-"

"Stop being an ass! James and Remus are your best friends...and Peter too," she almost choked. "They would die for you, just like you said you would for them and to have you bite their hands off the way you did-"

"Hermione, stop. I don't need you to fight with me on this, too. Please, let's just stop-"

"Not until you realize what you just did. Remus came to your side, Peter too," she caught. "I know the shit is going to hit the fan. I can feel it in the air, it's not balanced and I don't want you to do anything you're going to regret in the future."

"Future what? Stop thinking so long term. You have to live for the now, Hermione! Now is what matters, now is what is happening!"

Hermione's lip was starting to quiver. She felt her insides beginning to turn inside out and the idea of Sirius just throwing it all away sickened her. She wanted him to feel remorse; she wanted him to start seeing now the damage he may cause. She couldn't change the way he thought, because in a couple of days he was going to suspect Remus as the spy and then history will follow. It would only be twelve years from now, when he was alone in a cell, would he regret all that had happened and see a true face in the shrieking shack.

"I always think about the future. It's what drives me to be a better person, and you should, too."

Sirius watched her face change from anger to sincerity to pity in a matter of seconds. His heart started to break for her and her plea for him to hear her voice. She called to him and he wanted nothing more than to go to her, take her in his arms and feel her strong heart beating next to his. And so he did.

He grabbed her unsuspectingly there in the kitchen, her mouth muffled into his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and together they cradled each other as if they were each others' lifeline to support. No one else around, no music in the air, no sounds from outside, just the gentle sounds of the ticking clock and the romantic silence they seemed to create at desperate times.

He pulled back and cradled her face in his palms like a cherished toy. He kissed her forehead, then to her nose and finally left a strong kiss on her lips that she gratefully reciprocated.

"I have never met anyone as passionate as you. I have never known anyone to help me think and no one, not even my mother when I was a child, has taken the time with me to help me see what I look like. I've never met a woman...that seemed to care about me, the way you do."

Hermione was touched by his short speech, honored that she was finally being heard, but torn for not being able to tell him all her truths. She went there for a reason. She never thought she was going to fall in love with him.

"Part of me just wants to look out for you," she replied with a whispered voice. Their intensity was beginning to overcome her.

"Do I dare ask what the other part of you wants to do?"

_To love you._

Hearing him ask was like seeing him for the first time through different eyes. As if someone had dropped cold droplets down her naked skin, she shivered with heightened anticipation. She could barely see straight, she couldn't think straight, but she never felt so on course before in her life. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him and how much damage it was going to cause if she didn't erase his memory later, but all she could do was scream in her head and look into his heavenly grey eyes of mystery and solitude.

He was such a gift, such an amazing person that she'd be insane not to have him in any shape or form. Whether he was twenty-two or thirty-six, she wanted to be his. Her heart was racing for him and as if it were their first kiss all over again, she slowly went in to touch his lips as light as a feather. That was her answer.

"I think you already know."


	28. The Real Secret Keeper

_A note from Serade Black:__ I have been busy with RL, but at the same time I've been going over a few scenes from this chapter. I didn't like the first scene, so I changed it after speaking to a few people. I couldn't give that much guilt. However, I'm trying to focus on completing this and getting onto the next story, but I will not rush it to do so. I take quite a bit to update, I apologize, but that's just the way I write. I've made it a rule for myself not to read anything incomplete for that very reason, but some of you are gluttons for punishment, I guess ;)_

Ch. 28 - The Real Secret Keeper

The winds outside the windows of the old house tore through the trees. Their elongated branches tapped against the glass like an uninvited visitor. Shadows were cast upon the opposite wall as the trees danced with the moonlight.

Hermione lay awake, her eyes transfixed on the flickering shadows and the corresponding tree branches just outside. Her eyes reflected the movement of the clouds passing by as she rekindled the memories of an unforgettable time. The darkened memories of living in fear of dangerous anticipations were all too close to the history she was enduring.

Beyond the tapping, she listened to the gentle serene sound of Sirius breathing. He lay next to her on his back, one hand resting on his chest and the other between them; his handsome face was turned away. They had made love over an hour ago, Sirius trying to take away her fear, but she was not as lucky to drift off to a semi peaceful sleep.

Instead, she watched the windy night carry the clouds quickly, while mulling over the damage she had caused. She kept telling herself not to dwell on it, but she was who she was. Hermione hated not having an answer.

The next evening, they arrived at Godric's Hollow to the Potters' house. Hermione had wanted to spend the day alone with Sirius, finding any reason not to run into McGonagall or Dumbledore at this time. She had already overstayed her welcome and her days were limited with Sirius. Finding any reason to kiss him while pinned up against a hallway wall, even if they were only in his house, was a valid reason to wait it out.

As they approached the house from the sidewalk, Hermione stopped before the white fence that opened into their front garden. Her eyes traveled the walk up the pathway, through the door and mentally up to the second floor where in less than a week both occupants would be dead and a baby frightened and scarred.

"Come on, love," Sirius said, opening the gate and tugging Hermione's hand.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head to feign bewilderment. "Just a little dizzy from the transport."

They walked to the front door of the house, trying not to picture it as an aftermath of demolition. The welcoming front door had ornate designs carved into the wood with a large old fashioned metal handle. With ease, Sirius knocked once and walked inside, taking Hermione behind him.

"Oi! Where is everyone?" he shouted from the foyer. The house was quiet, still, displaying no present occupants.

"Upstairs in Harry's room!" they heard from above.

Sirius turned and helped Hermione remove her coat, then removed his, and hung them on the coat rack nearby. He walked into the kitchen to the refrigerator and helped himself to a butter beer. He offered Hermione one, but she declined as her interest appeared to be drifting.

For the very reason they had come, she was nervous to be there. It was too close to Halloween, too close to the truth and she was very close to just telling them everything that was about to happen. But, she couldn't, she knew this well.

Her lack of enthusiasm to be at his best friend's house disappointed Sirius and he was otherwise concerned for how funny she was acting. He blamed it on the circumstance for which they had come and tried to otherwise calm her. "You all right, love?" he said privately.

"I'm fine, really," she was quick to reply, laying a hand on his chest to ground herself as he stepped into her personal space. He was always comforting, but not when she knew what was looming over them.

"You look worried. What's the matter?" he asked again taking her hand from his chest and kissing her palm. He was standing against her now; he loved making them one together.

"Sirius," she started, taking her second hand and holding it against his cheek, "I'm sorry. I'm just concerned for them and I just don't like being here under these circumstances."

"I know love, I know. Me either. But, we're here for a good reason and after tonight it will be safe. I'm going to be their Secret Keeper and things will change but-"

"The Secret Keeper? But, I thought..." she hesitated, thinking back.

"Thought what, love? Don't think it should be me? Think it should be...wait!" He looked directly at her as if she'd just turned on a light in his head. "That's right! They would suspect me of being their Secret Keeper; they'd never suspect...Peter! Remus, I don't know, I have my suspicions, but that's another - of course Peter! Darling, that's a brilliant idea!"

In a second he was pulling away to run out of the kitchen with the thrill of her brilliant idea coming to light. But, as he left her standing alone in the kitchen with her thoughts, he mind swirling in a blur, it dawned on her: she was the reason the Potter's were killed! It was her questioning of Sirius being the Secret Keeper that initiated a chain of thought that concluded the obvious dilemma and inevitable ending. Had she not come, Sirius could have been the original Secret Keeper.

It had happened so fast that she barely had a second to reach out for him and pull him back to...to what? Tell him she was wrong? Tell him that it should be him after all and disregard her slip, but then that would change the course of history! That would have changed the outcome of everything and that...that...would be catastrophic!

Her heart was beating so fast she could barely catch her breath. She heard the voices carrying down the stairs from the second floor, Sirius's voice most pronounced, agreeing with the great suggestion. She heard them talking about it, heard them agreeing and then lastly, she heard Sirius calling for her to come up to see them.

She should have gone home right then, no second thoughts. She should have taken out her Time Turner, left her things behind and just go home to Grimmauld Place and deal with whatever else she my have royally fucked up.

But, she didn't.

She answered his call and took a deep breath to begin the dozen steps to the second floor to see him, to see James and Lily, and the rest of the crowd that had come that night to finish applying the guarding spells over the house.

The journey to the second floor had never felt so long. The wood of the railing felt smooth under her hand, but the portraits on the walls seemed to be glaring at her, as if they knew she didn't belong. She kept her eyes straight ahead with her dignity tucked safely under her shirt. She followed the sound of otherwise happy voices that were probably cooing over the baby and just as she'd reached the threshold of the baby room, she saw she was right.

Like a proper family, both Potters were smiling gleefully with Sirius nearby and not too far from them were Remus and Peter. All of them seemed to have the opposite of Hermione's expression and otherwise gut feeling.

"Grand idea, Hermione," James said, coming in to kiss her cheek for a greeting. "They'd come right for that dodgy bugger, without a doubt."

"I just thought it should be me, but then, they would too," Sirius chuckled with an overall pleasing smug look on his face.

"I had a similar idea," Remus started, but hesitated when Sirius gave him an uncomforting glance. "But, had a feeling no one would go for it."

She could only smile. Half smile, at the least, because inside she was crying hysterically that she was the reason that the small child in Lily's arms didn't have his parents. The guilt was almost too much to handle, but she had to make-do. She had to pretend that it was a good idea, because in the end, Harry wouldn't have been the person he was today. Tragic as it was, Harry was the man he was, because of the journey he was destined to travel.

Of course, watching the way Sirius looked her over as if she was just too good to be true was another matter. She felt secure and safe within this group, well except for Peter, and it was going to be her mission when she returned to her time to try and pull out the person that Sirius once was - at any cost. Would he hate her in the future? Would he remember this in the future? Was he secretly waiting for her to get back so that he could lash out on her for the damage she'd caused? She didn't know.

An hour later, she had moved into the guest room with Remus and Sirius, who were adding Black Out spells, should anyone try to see the house from outside the windows. This had to be applied to every room in the house to make sure not an inch was overlooked. Much like taking room by room to paint it, the group had paired off into other rooms to accomplish more. Hermione found herself standing beside the men, working away and adding spells that would do no good in the end.

"I'm going for another beer. You two want one?" Sirius asked, stepping away and tucking his wand back into the rear pocket of his jeans. His hair was frazzled and messy and he summoned a hair tie to pull it back off his shoulders.

"Yes, thanks Padfoot," Remus answered with his back to him as he diligently finished up with a strong flick of his wrist.

"I'm fine," Hermione answered weakly. She tried to muster up stronger enthusiasm for the sake of face, but was unsuccessful.

"Yes, that you are, love," he added with a cheesy flair. He quickly stole a kiss before leaving her alone in the room with Remus.

They stood a few feet apart as their wrists were raised and gently flicks like strokes of a paintbrush swished before the wall. The lights were bright and cheery, but the outside windy night told another eerie story. A few moments passed before either one initiated any conversation, but it was Remus who started first. He looked behind him towards the door and then back at her, watching her whisper an incantation through tight lips.

"I just wanted to say good-bye, in case we don't get the chance," Remus said practically in a whisper.

Hermione glanced over with an inquisitive look, "Sorry?"

"I saw it Hermione-"

"Saw what-"

"I saw it. I know what it is and I know you don't belong here, so I just wanted to say-"

"I don't know what you're talking-" she tried to cut him off, but to no avail.

"Your Time Turner, Hermione," he finally said, dropping his voice. They'd spoken over each other for the last few sentences, but he managed to say it. "I saw it that night you picked up the baby. I won't say anything and I know you can't either, but..."

"Remus, please," she urged, holding her hands up as if to stop him. Her mind was beginning to spin.

"I just wanted to say good-bye. I imagine I'll be picking up the pieces soon enough with him, because I know you cannot stay."

Hermione's eyes closed on the very idea of her leaving Sirius in shambles over her. They'd barely said any intimate confessions, but she was sure of the feelings she had for him.

"If it matters at all, you made a difference in him," Remus offered. He lowered his wand as he spoke close to her. He watched her expression change.

Her eyes closed and single light tears began to slowly cascade down her cheeks. Wiping them away with her shirt sleeve, she managed, "It wasn't my intention-"

"Shh! Please don't explain, you know you can't. I just wanted to say good-bye."

There was a silent stillness about them, like all the energy had been sucked out and not even movement of air was traveling around them. Like the planet had stopped rotating around the sun and the moon had gone out, everything was still to her and without thinking and without reason hugged Remus. Tightly and lovingly, she hugged him with the desperation she needed to unload. He returned her hug somewhat awkwardly, but he eventually wrapped his arms around her.

The sound of someone clearing his throat broke the moment, followed by, "Something I should know?"

Hermione pulled away slowly and looked over to Sirius who was standing the doorway holding two butter beers. At first, she wanted to tell him it was nothing, like it truly was, but she had to think in his mind what he may have come across without knowing the full story. She couldn't tell him and she was unsure of how to explain it.

"It's nothing, Padfoot," Remus said rather calmly. His own tone of voice surprised him, believing the truth of the action. It really was nothing.

"Why are you hugging my girl?" he asked quick, immediately suspicious.

"Sirius, it's nothing. I'm just a little emotional right now with all of this. Like I told you in the kitchen. Really, honey, it's nothing."

But Sirius was staring at Remus, like he'd just noticed something in his friend that was a glimmer of dishonesty and allowed his own suspicions to sink in.

"You wouldn't turn your back on us, would you mate?" Sirius asked with a sly eye. He watched Remus carefully, waiting for him to attack at any moment.

"Sirius, please! I would never and you know that. You're just being over paranoid, friend. We're all getting really paranoid with all of this."

The returning energy in the room, or at least the air stirring around them, fought with a fierce vengeance. Sirius had walked in at the wrong moment to aid his suspicions of his friend and now with his own girlfriend, he was a little set off. In fact, for the next half hour, very little was said between them and with Hermione affixing the spells alongside of them, it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Around three in the morning, the crew had finished their casting and had retired to their respected rooms. They'd worked all day and all night and their bodies were taking an evil toll, even if none of them were over twenty-two. Sirius and Hermione took the bedroom on the first floor while Peter and Remus had taken the extra guest rooms on the second floor.

The bedroom was simple, just a double bed, dresser and nightstand. Moderate furnishings hung on the walls from various wizard artists that changed colors with the mood of the room. As they walked in tired and worn out, the room reflected a grayish blue.

Hermione was opening up her knapsack and as Sirius left the room to use the bathroom, she quickly slipped off her Time Turner and slid it into one of the secret pockets inside. She didn't need it accidentally slipping out from under her nightshirt as she slept, forcing an undesirable conversation in the morning amongst the house.

Sirius returned and was sliding his shirt over his head to display himself as tempting to her as a decadent dessert. His messy black hair fell over his nicely tanned shoulders that moved against his muscles nicely. Hard at work all night had built up a slight sweat in him and it only added to his appeal.

"I wasn't happy with that display that I walked in on tonight," he finally said, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his slender legs to change into linen pants to sleep in.

"Sirius, really it was nothing suspicious. I promise you that," she said in a more convincing voice. She lifted her own shirt over her head, subconsciously thinking that if she wore less clothing in front of him, he'd be more apt to believe her.

He was distracted for a few extra seconds, but quickly caught himself and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure, love. It's just that...I don't know," he shook his head somewhat frustrated. "I know I can trust you when I tell you that I have my doubts in him lately."

"Sirius! He's not doing anything shady towards me," she said, sliding her jeans down her legs in a less graceful way.

Sirius watched her as his thoughts began to take him over. His shoulders sunk defeated, his hands folded before him and he stared at the rug as she changed into a sleep shirt. His mind was racing, plagued with somewhat disturbing thoughts.

"I believe you, because he knows I won you, not him."

"I'm not a prize," she said quietly, walking as she took her hair down.

Once she was within distance, he reached out and pulled her to stand before him between his legs. His strong hands smoothed over her bottom and his chin rested against her stomach as he peered up at her, "Oh, you are to me."

She couldn't help but offer a slight smile over his sincere words and she gazed down at him as if he were a gift sent to her from the Heavens. She admired his handsome chiseled face, pushing the stray locks of hair from his face to better see him. The young man that hugged her waist was still the man she rescued out of the Veil. The same man that might be waiting for her to come home.

"I've fallen so hard for you Hermione, it nearly hurts."

"Sirius, please don't tell me that-"

"And I don't want you to go back to America."

His last words forced her to close her eyes in order to force back the moisture forming in her tear ducts. She was fighting herself to not let him see her cry and to pretend that he hadn't just asked her of that.

"I'm telling the truth when I tell you that when I was going to be the Secret Keeper, I was going to hide...with you. I wasn't going to let you argue, but I was going to take you away with me to a beautiful tropical island, where no one would know us. Somewhere bright and happy, somewhere Death Eaters couldn't stand the sun."

Hermione's heart was racing again, her breath was practically ragged and her eyes felt wet. He gazed up at her hopeful and loving, she could only say no in her heart. Words or anything close to being vocal escaped her as he told her the tale of their tropical solitude.

"...we'd come to visit when the coast was clear, just for a little bit. Long enough to see Harry getting older then go back into hiding so that they would be okay. We'd contact your family of course, and let them know that you were done with your studies, done with your work, and I would take care of you."

Like slow moving credits, streams of tears started down Hermione's cheeks. She could no longer stop them and she couldn't say anything back. Instead, she just held his cheek in her hand and leaned down to kiss him. Feeling his soft lips against hers was beyond worldly and it gave her peace within to be connected to him. He believed her to be his world alongside the world he knew, wanting to bring her into it and his future ahead of him - wherever that took him. Never before in her life had she been _loved_ this much by a person; he simply told her what he wanted of her. Never had she known that peace and rightness could be so satisfying.

In her own way, without words, she told him that she wanted him. Whether it was that night, that future, or just the moment when she felt his fingers bringing her nightshirt over her head, she wanted him in every way. She wanted to go home to her time and take him again. She wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place and seek him out and make him remember this very moment when he made her feel like the Queen of his universe and the Goddess to his sun. She wanted him to remember the way she helped him crawl backwards on the bed to rest against the pillows as their nearly naked bodies draped over each other. She wanted to make him feel young again, to love life again and to know what it felt like to have her hasty hands work their way to removing his linen pants that sat low on his hips to fall to the floor.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"I see everyone was up late today if it's nearly noon and we're just sitting down to breakfast," Sirius said as he entered the kitchen the next morning.

The picture perfect crew was just coming alive in the later morning hours just a few strokes away from noon. Peter was sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet, Lily was standing at the stove charming a spatchula to flip the pancakes for her, Remus was fixing his tea and James practically had his whole entire head in the refrigerator.

"Yeah, well-" James started, pausing to yawn, "Harry woke us up early this morning already, but then Lily and I just went back to bed."

"Good morning," Hermione said feebly as she took in the scene before her. The job of the Secret Keeper still looming over her as guilty beady eyes stared at her from behind a Daily Prophet that flickered with flashbulbs in small boxes.

"Good morning, Hermione," Lily said first, followed by a small chain of mutual greetings. "Pancakes or toast, love?"

Hermione had been reading the front cover of the wizard news announcing the capture of more Death Eaters, that she didn't hear Lily talking to her until she felt Sirius nudge her from behind to break her train of thought. "Just toast, thank you!" she nodded.

"Oh, an owl came for you, Padfoot," Remus said, tossing his friend the letter that he had in his pocket.

Sirius caught it with definite grace and nodded, "Cheers." Opening it up, his eyes scanned the contents and he summarized it aloud, "Andromeda says, 'considering the recent events, we're going to indefinitely postpone our Sundays. We don't need friends out traveling in the line of danger just for my world famous martinis. Love to you all. Stay safe.' Well, can't say I didn't see that coming. Here's to the end of another tradition..." he said raising the nearest cup.

"Sirius, don't think that way," said Lily. Her pancakes had stacked themselves on a serving plate nearby.

"Sorry Lils, just another thing that the bastards are taking away from us. Next, they'll be blowing up stores in Diagon Alley," Sirius said, falling into a seat next to Peter. His body slouched like a pouting little boy.

"It's for the best," Hermione added, trying to lift Sirius's spirits in a time of turmoil.

"Oh, the hell with that," James said, finally closing the refrigerator and carrying two bottles, a plate of butter, syrup and milk for the tea. He looked so unbalanced; it was a miracle he made it to the kitchen counter. "I just wish they'd give us the next plan of action. What the hell is Dumbledore waiting on, anyway?"

"James, stop. What part of, 'we're a target' isn't quite fitting in? That's his next move: guarding us," Lily said turning around at her husband's mini tantrum with a spatchula in her hand like a wand.

"She's right, Prongs," piped in Remus.

"Just don't," James snapped. He was obviously not taking this fear well, once it had settled in that he had to camouflage his house and live his life in captivity.

"We could just go out fighting like we had always planned," Sirius said still slouching. He had thrown it out there to his friend, just to test the waters.

Immediately, James turned around to meet Sirius's eyes from standing by the counter, "Right you are, Padfoot. Just appear with our wands blazing, death in our eyes to put fear in theirs..."

"Send Voldemort, taking my gnarly cousins with him and for an added bonus..."

"James, stop it!" Lily barked, trying to intervene. The two men had resorted to talking like they were young boys again.

"Yes?" James said, his eyes alight and eager to leave at that moment.

Remus shook his head and glanced over to a worrying Hermione. "They do this all the time."

"We shave Lucius's head and skin Snape!"

The two men had gone from determined, to evil, to silly school boys in twelve seconds, where they were so into their scheming, they erupted into a fit of cackling laugher. Tears were streaming down Sirius's cheeks as he doubled over and James used the counter to keep him standing. They went on and on for a few more minutes about what ridiculous feats they could master, all in the name of Voldemort, but came out just pulling the others' leg harder and harder. What sounded as serious as a heart attack at first, was quickly becoming foolish drunken taunts fueled by the reality of the severe situation. If this was how they were going to deal with the stress and seriousness at hand, then let them.

The group sat down for breakfast in the midst of laughter and childish scheming, pretending, even for a few moments, that all was well and death was not around the corner.


	29. October 31, 1981

_A note from Serade Black: Things are moving along, yes. Thank you to those that have stuck by to review as much as you have, it truly is enlightening. On that note, I'd like to address one reviewer: Snivellus. I'm sorry you feel how you do, you are welcome to your own opinion, but I can't see your view entirely if it took you 28 chapters (right up to date) to decide that. For everyone else...enjoy! ~SB_

Ch. 29 - October 31, 1981

At the end of the hallway from the large oak front door, Hermione stared at it as if it were the enemy. Its intricate designs of Celtic art engraved in the wood looked back at her as if it were hiding all secrets, and beyond it - death.

She had fallen asleep on the couch for the last few hours, having awoken to the heavy winds stirring through the trees outside. The constant tappings and lack of lighting when she opened her eyes made her immediately jump up and reach for her chest to feel for the necklace she had learned to loathe. But, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness around her and her fingers felt the piece through the cotton she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked all around her, noticing that not a single candle was left on in the room, indicating that she had fallen asleep long before night had fallen.

"Sirius!" she called out into the void as she reached around for her wand. "Lumos!"

The tip of her wand illuminated so that she could stand up and walk around the room, lighting several lanterns and muggle electric lights that Sirius had. She called his name again, but there was no answer. Her heart was beginning to beat quickly and her mouth going slightly dry.

Once the kitchen was full of light, she noticed a letter on the counter scribbled in handsome handwriting:

_Kitten,_

_Ran off with Remus until last call. Don't wait up!_

_xx - S_

As she set down the letter and glanced to the hallway, her mind was not relieved. If anything, she was winding herself up more and more, biting her lip and narrowing her brow for no apparent reason. But, there was a reason, it was October thirtieth.

Hermione had spent her day with Sirius, doing whatever he initiated. He wanted to take her to lunch, so she let him. He wanted to ride his bike against muggle traffic, so she held on tightly. He wanted to sleep in late that day and make love to her as they pried themselves from their pajamas, so she allowed it. Such is life.

She knew that the very next night was going to be the fateful night when all their lives were going to change. The foursome would become two, an orphan would be named, the Dark Lord would stagger and Hermione would go home to the present day. She'd watched Sirius more closely that day in order to study his routine on the last day of freedom, sealing it to memory for when she got back. He was normal, as was expected, and incredibly affectionate. Of course, that could be because she was ever so loving to him as well. Whenever she'd get the chance, she was touching him - his arm, his thigh, his chin, she'd be reaching for him.

A couple of times, she'd caught him staring at her for probably longer than what was deemed normal, and always with just something on the tip of his tongue he was going to say. But, when she'd flutter over and wrap her arms around him, he'd go mute. He'd smile and flick his beautiful black hair back over his shoulder, exuding confidence without any doubt.

However, late in their evening, Sirius was the one that initiated an uneasy conversation. He was coming down the stairs into the kitchen, where Hermione was just finishing up some homemade curry she was preparing. He plopped right down onto the stool at his bar, watching her cook.

"So, when are you going?"

Hermione looked up from the naan bread she was handling and met his very sad eyes beneath black curtains. "What?" She heard him fine; she just needed the extra time to prepare.

He folded his hands on the counter and looked down. He knew that it was already a sensitive subject. "I saw your knapsack by your side of the bed. I saw that it was all packed."

Hermione froze like a statue, her mouth already drying and all she could do was nod very slowly. Her eyes never left his. "I just wanted to keep my things together, Sirius."

"You're leaving soon. I hope you would give me the decency to tell me when you're going back," he said slightly put off. There was tension in his voice and he kept his eyes low.

Inside, Hermione felt like her heart was ice and the shorter the day got, made it nearly impossible not to tell him everything. "Soon."

"All you can tell me is soon? Am I just going to come home one day to a note from you saying you've gone? This isn't easy for me, Hermione."

"It's not easy for me either, Sirius. I wish I could make you understand, but...but..."

"But, what?" he asked, this time finally looking up at her. His dark hair was behind his shoulders, his eyes gorgeous grey and his mouth slightly open from raising his voice. "But what, love? I don't see why you just can't throw everything out the window and stay here. Fuck your studies and come back to England."

Hermione dropped the plate she was holding, making a loud crack in kitchen. She quickly went around the counter to him and reached her hands out to cup his face. She kissed him immediately with blazing passion, but in the end she still pulled away.

"What if I made you a promise?"

He was taken back, aroused by her sudden need for him, "What promise?"

"I want to make a promise to you now, that no matter where I am, I will always be there for you."

Sirius's shoulders slumped, wishing she wouldn't say anything so cliché'. His face turned away from hers, finding it hurtful to even look at her.

She knew she was losing his interest and pressed on, "Wherever I go, wherever I am, if I leave and you find me again...I'll be there for you." She forced Sirius to look into her eyes and feel what she was saying. "I'll be there...if you want me!"

She felt like it was her only way to engrave it into his memory that she would be there for him in the future. No matter what he thought of her, no matter what had transpired after all those years, from the day she returned, she would be there for him if he wanted her. Telling him what she could now, was her only hope of making him understand in the long future ahead.

That was several hours ago and she was still standing in the hallway, listening to the scratching and stumbling at the door, waiting for the doorknob to turn. She had her wand clenched at her side, in the slight event that it wasn't who she expected. But, it was the barking laughter from the other side that confirmed it was Sirius.

The two men fell through the door, one holding the other up with the balance of a new born calf. Sirius was singing again, this time Remus was his co-conspirator, with a foul duet. Remus nearly went tumbling down as his own footing seemed to have got lost coming in through the door, so much he was finding sanctuary against the hallway wall with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Sirius managed to shut the door behind him, taking his wand out and locking it magically. He seemed to remember his priorities at his weakest and drunkest moments. He spun around and patted Remus on the shoulder, pulling him off the wall and encouraging him to join him in the kitchen. He hadn't noticed Hermione standing there yet, watching the two men like an unhappy parent; her arms were crossed in front of her.

"Hermione, my precious angel, you're up!" Sirius slurred, throwing an arm around her neck and pulling her alongside of him. She reached out to stable him.

"Yes, I didn't know you had left," she managed to say whilst trying to avoid being smothered by his arm. She slinked out of his drunken grip and turned to check on Remus who had been left in the hallway, but he was already staggering into the kitchen himself, using the counter to hold himself up.

"Hello, Herminny-e," Remus chuckled, amused by her name and the syllables. "I thought you'd be gone!"

Hermione's eyes rose and she quickly glanced back to Sirius who was bent over with his head in the fridge, trying to find either a snack, butterbeer or both.

"Remus, are you staying here tonight?" she said, putting an arm around him as if to hold him back from letting anything else slip. She was worried he might say something while he was drunk. So, to protect herself from any accidents, she slid her wand out of her pocket and pointed it behind Remus's back and out of Sirius's sight.

Her werewolf friend practically collapsed as Hermione put a sleeping spell over him that was just enough to leave him on the brink of a long heavy sleep. He managed to catch himself on the counter before him and with two hands pushed his head back up.

"I am! In fact, I'm not going to bother to go upstairs...the couch is fine," he mumbled and like a zombie he carried himself with dragging limbs to the same couch Hermione had just taken a nap on.

Sirius turned around from looking into the refrigerator with a chicken leg in one hand and an unopened butterbeer in the other. He saw his friend face first on the couch and he dropped his snack, but saved his butterbeer with an overdramatic sigh.

"You bastard! You said you were going to keep on with me! Traitor!" he howled to his corpse-like friend from behind the kitchen counter.

Hermione licked her lips and looked away to hide her smirk. She came up behind Sirius and rested a hand on his back as she looked at Remus with him, laying peacefully on the couch ignorant to the enchantment. "I think he's out for the night, Sirius."

"Oh! We were going to drink until the sun came up, that git!" he explained as he opened the butterbeer, but neglected the chicken leg. Hermione was quick to take the bottle out of his hand before he could take a sip, "Oi! I'll get one for you!"

"I think you've had enough," she said, taking it away like a pacifier from a baby.

"No, I haven't yet. I was working on getting enough!" he said slurring. He depended on the counter to ground him the more he tried to speak.

Hermione was able to convince Sirius otherwise and led him up the stairs. With very little effort of his own, he was stripped of his jeans and shirt and fell like a lifeless heap onto the soft comforter of sheets and pillows. He lay loose like a doll over the covers, turning here and there to encompass himself in their comforts that he had gone without watching Hermione undress and get ready for bed herself. Within minutes, Sirius was fast asleep and creating chaos in a dream state.

Hermione lay in bed, not tossing and turning, for she didn't wish to disturb him. She watched how peaceful he lay, so oblivious about what was shortly going to be transpiring. His entire world was going to come crashing down. His best friend and brother would be dead, Remus would believe it was him, Peter was going to be outed for his betrayal and Sirius was going to be screaming wildly as they restrained him to take his Azkaban photograph.

Her heart felt a strong painful pang, like someone was piercing it immediately with the prick of a pin and she winced in agony. The more she thought about how much damage she'd done to him on her own, he obviously caring strongly for her and believing that she'd left him...who would want to live with that kind of tortured heart?

Hermione's sadness was beginning to boil into anger. Frustration over her failed mission and how things were about to unfold and how she could do nothing about it. Damn her for allowing herself to fall into his trap. Damn her for her lack of willpower to restrain herself. She was just adding to his wronged life, adding to the lies he would have to endure for the next thirteen years.

She should never have used the Time Turner. She should never have even attempted to change him and allowed things to follow through the way they were always intended. She bit her lip hard, pulling herself back from crying out loudly. She was trying not to wake him. Trying not to make him open his eyes and see her there, a quiet sobbing mess.

She could fix it. She could do it. She could put things back to the way they were, before she came. He never had to know her.

Hermione quickly reached over and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. Her fingers were wound tightly around the engraved wood, pointing the tip of it to Sirius's temple. Like holding a gun and about to fire, she held her breath, battling over her own decision to change things back to the way they were...in his mind.

She knew the spell. Sure, it might adjust quite a few things in his life, mildly change his personality and she would be nothing but deja vu to him. He wouldn't remember how far they'd gotten; he wouldn't remember how he drove her insane with passion and would never know how much she deeply cared for him.

Her wrist was beginning to tremble, her fingers getting weak. The tip of her wand hung dangerously close to his skin.

_Do it! Just do it and get it over with. It's for the best._

She needed to risk it. She had to do it. Their relationship was all wrong and she never should have existed before now. Things would be too different when she got home, she'd done enough damage.

His hand started to move to scratch his chest. So innocent. So happy...

Like holding a pistol to someone's head and quickly seeing yourself from an outside eye, she pulled her wand away from him. Her breath was ragged, her heart thumping quickly with the adrenaline rush. She couldn't do it.

With a slight stir, Sirius rolled over to his side and snaked an arm around her waist, pushing himself close to her without realizing that she still clutched her wand in her hand over the edge of the bed.

The next morning, Sirius woke up in an empty bed. The past few days had been bliss for him. He'd been able to roll over and reach for his witch that was usually curled up to the edge of the bed; he seemed to have a habit of taking up most of the space as he slept. He glanced around the room not seeing any of her clothes lying on the chair like they were the previous night.

The room was quiet, the shower was not running. His bedroom appeared like a bachelor's, like it had all those years before. Sirius flung the sheets off of him and immediately ran to the bedroom door, throwing it open with haste to get out. He took the stairs two at a time and as he rounded the corner, his heart was relieved.

Hermione was standing over a stove, flipping eggs in a sizzling pan before her. Behind her, the toaster sprung and the jam knife was enchanted to be ready for the buttering. Juice was being poured for two glasses at the table by two place settings and with an added flick of her wand without looking, the toast traveled to two spare plates.

"Well, good morning," Sirius said in a hoity voice. He played off worry rather well, letting his guard down and walking her way to kiss her good morning as if he'd known her to be downstairs all along.

"Same to you," she replied with a kiss, startled a second as her bottom was thoroughly pinched. "Sit, your breakfast is nearly done."

"What's the occasion? Eggs, toast, juice, what, no champagne?" he said, sitting down at the table and unrolling the Daily Prophet that was waiting for him with flashing front pictures.

"Just...because." She hid the sadness in her voice, trying not to think about what was happening that night.

"Damn, they got two more from the Order. My god, when is it-" Sirius said shaking his head. He was interrupted by Hermione sliding a spatchula under him to his plate to leave eggs for him.

Her demeanor was forced, trying to pretend that all was well and cheery and nothing was to be of a concern for the day of all days. She sat down, oblivious to the names he said and settled in to eat her breakfast with him.

There was a loud crack outside, causing both of them to jump and glance out the window. Thick rolling clouds were coming in like a fire was setting ablaze in the distance. Hermione looked momentarily alarmed, but Sirius just shook his head and went back to reading the paper.

"Bit early for a thunderstorm, isn't it?" Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"That's not rain, love. It's him." Sirius continued to read the paper meticulously, wanting to not miss any detail held in the paper before him.

"So, what gossip does Rita Skeeter have these days?"

"No gossip, love. She's too afraid to publish anything that might make anyone mad. Unless she's got someone on her side, she's not going to print any juicy news. Might stay with the Quibbler for that one. Load of bullocks, that publication." Sirius laid the paper down by his plate to read and eat at the same time. He took a bite of his eggs and leaned over to scan the extra names on the "killed" list.

"Maybe not. I've found some things in that paper that's rather useful."

"Have you met the editors of that paper? The bird that runs it is a real loon, not to mention her strange husband. They've had a kid, so I don't reckon that they'll turn out sane."

"Sirius, be nice."

"Just stating the facts, love. Damn, that's four!" he said, distracted by another name on the list.

"So," Hermione cleared her throat, "what are the plans for today?"

"Well, since it's Mischief Night, I'm partial to staying in. If I can't go out with James and wreak havoc, what's the good in going? Besides, on night of all nights, I imagine it'll just be an excuse for the Death Eaters to stir up more trouble. I am, however, going to check on Wormtail Wednesday. Just wanting to make sure he is where he is. Why? Do you have plans for us? Something to do with picking out which drawer will be yours or writing to your parents about being whisked away by a dashing handsome young wizard that loves the way you dig your fingernails into his back?"

Hermione almost choked and clutched her throat, trying to stifle a giggle at the same time. He had thoroughly made her blush. The idea of writing her parents, in her own time, regarding anything of that nature was way too much.

The day ticked on with Hermione glancing at a clock every fifteen minutes. The sunlight outside was beginning to lower; the wind seemed to never calm, proving to be a true fall day. Clouds rolled in and never ceased to wisp by to threaten birds of flight. Weight and stress started to push down on Hermione's shoulders as she'd glance over at Sirius. Begging for a lazy day, she only got part of one as Sirius insisted they leave and have a bite at a muggle pub down the street. Believing it was safe enough, she just didn't want to go far and insisted on showing him countless public displays of affection in order to get him home. Being out in the open was not ideal for them, and for however long she could keep him out of harms way, the better.

Finally, as the two of them were drifting off together while sitting under a blanket in the corner of the couch, Hermione's eyes flew open to a clock, she heard a loud crack of thunder and lightning dancing together and she knew...

For a moment, she thought she saw the clock stop ticking and the wind outside momentarily die down, but it was only her imagination. Late into the night, hardly a soul outside, life had just changed. October 31st, 1981 had happened. Like all the air had escaped her lungs, she felt a sudden loss knowing that two very important people had taken their last breath, died straight backed and proud and a red-headed woman was given a chance to save two lives...but, only saving one. Her visual imagination took the lead and pictured Voldemort weak and sliding away into hiding, vulnerable to anyone that knew how to completely destroy him at that moment.

Her breath hastened and her fingers tensed over Sirius's chest. "You alright, love? You're shaking," Sirius said low, almost in a whisper. He had dozed off for a few minutes, but her unsteady resting hand was enough to check on her.

"Nothing," she whispered back, staring off into space across the warm room. "Just...thinking."

"Well, don't think too hard. You've got me here and whatever it is, I'll protect you," he said, leaving a kiss against her temple. His shadowed chin brushed over her cool skin. "But for now, I think it's time for us to get upstairs, because you're leaving a dent in my shoulder." He had nudged her fully awake and pulled her with him from the couch.

She moved slow and without any energy. It was like she were carrying a heavy blanket of depression that just couldn't lift from her shoulders and even with the forced smile from the way Sirius tickled her just at her side, it was hard to shake off. In a matter of hours, she would be gone and away from him and he would later discover everything could have been prevented.

Tucked away in their bed, Hermione found a sleeping spell she performed on herself helpful, but it was Sirius lying awake and staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Something plagued him and it wasn't exactly clear what. He felt curious about something and very carefully got out of bed. Just as he took the first step on the carpet, a loud crack of thunder bellowed into the sky outside the large window. So loud it made Hermione stir in the bed he left behind. Sirius continued on and went to the fireplace across the room. He knelt down before it and took a handful of Floo powder in his hand, taking a few seconds to think upon what he was doing.

Checking up on his best mate, Peter.

His hand threw down the powder fast, erupting a fierce bout of blue flames before him. Sirius said Wormtail's location and stuck his head through the fire. For three minutes, he said Peter's name over and over again, but to no avail. The place looked empty and dark with no sign of life. The dinner table looked tidy and unused, the candles weren't smoking from being put out, and not even the stir of a small rat tapped across the wooden floor. The house appeared empty.

Sirius stood up and quickly grabbed his jeans that lay over a nearby chair and a beige long sleeve button-up shirt that was draped over the back. He moved swiftly throughout the room, pulling his jeans up over his hips and zipping them up with haste. In the bed, Hermione reached out absently searching for the person that kept her safe and warm through her heavy slumber. Her eyes flickered and then opened to blink a few times to see Sirius just putting his arms through his designer shirt.

She sat up immediately, "Sirius, where are you going?" Her hair was messy and wild around her head, appearing like a goddess rousing.

Once his arms were both through the sleeves, his shirt lay open and unbuttoned as he looked over at her wrapped up in his bed sheets and comforter. His rippled chest and stomach appeared taut and firm in the still blazing blue flames of the fireplace. His top button on his jeans was still not fastened.

Sirius caught her eye and rushed over to her, placing both hands over her cheeks and kissing her hard. When he pulled away, he looked at her with incredible intensity, "You stay here! I'll be back."

"Sirius, please, where are you going?" she asked again, her breath sparse.

He shook his head, his loose locks moving swiftly over his shoulders, "I'm going to check on Wormtail. He's not responding from his hiding place and-"

"Sirius-" she reached out for him, but froze. This was how it happened. This is the way it was supposed to be.

"What love? You can't come with me. I need you to stay here, so I know you'll be safe."

Like awakening from a dream, she shook herself from her state and nodded rather feeble.

"Good." He kissed her forehead and pulled away, buttoning his shirt and running his hands through his hair to double as a brush. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots and Hermione draped herself over him, hugging his neck from behind, leaving small kisses along his ear. She closed her eyes tight, holding back the tears that were on the brink. She wanted, for one last time, to feel the tips of his hair tickle her cheeks and to rub her cheek along his scratchy beard, fearful that it might not be the same. Fearful that it might never happen again.

"I'll be back soon, love. I love all your affection, believe me, but you're making it incredibly hard to leave you now," he said as he turned around to kiss her.

"Sorry, I know you have to go. I'll just miss you," she practically whispered. She was finding it harder and harder to meet his eyes, knowing that any moment she would erupt into a fit of tears with no explanation.

He kissed her again, tearing himself away with severe difficulty and rushed down the stairs, stomping all the way down. Hermione was close behind in his wake in pajama pants and long sleeved t-shirt.

Sirius grabbed his keys from the counter, double checked the placement of his wand and spun around where he stood, meeting Hermione face first. "Do NOT leave this house!" He reached for her with serious possession and kissed her hard, rendering her nearly motionless. He needed to balance the chaos out in his mind, for he had a truly bad feeling about what was happening while he was at home. At the same time, he knew something was going on in Hermione, because he sensed she felt something off as well.

"I mean it. You stay here, I'll be back as soon as I can! Just promise me that you'll wait for me," he said pulling away and looking into her eyes.

Hermione couldn't say anything. She wanted to say so much at that moment, but didn't know how to form the words. All she could do was look into his grey orbs and slowly nod, her lips turning into a frown.

Sirius kissed her forehead and turned to open the door, his keys ringing in his hand. He was rushing as quickly as he could, he needed to get to Peter. He threw open the door and rushed down the stairs to where his motorbike was parked outside.

Hermione hurried to the open door behind him. The air outside had a rotten smell to it. The skies were cloudy, making her skin clammy. The muggle neighbors were oblivious to the wizarding world, should they peek out their windows from hearing voices.

"Sirius!" Hermione called out, running down the steps and over the wet grass to him. She reached him just as he was about to throw his leg over the motorcycle to start the engine.

"Hermione, please just stay inside." He knew she was leaving. He could tell.

"Sirius-" she cut herself off with one more kiss on his young lips. Tears were beginning to cascade down her cheeks like an overflowing waterfall; she didn't want to let him go.

The strong dulling pang returned to her heart and she looked up on him for the last time as the young Sirius Black. Soon all would be gone: that lust for life, that thrilling excitement with every word he spoke, to become a shadow of what he once was all over what he was going to discover. She put a hand on his cheek, curling her fingers to scratch against his stubble afraid to speak.

"Go back inside, love. I'll be right back, I promise. Just wait for me."

"Sirius, I love you!" she blurted out regrettably. She needed to get it off her chest, at any expense.

As if she had just commented on the weather he smiled and shook his head, "I know."

After one more kiss, he threw his leg over his motorcycle and revved up the engine. He footed around his front garden as Hermione slowly took a few steps away so he could turn around and leave, paying no attention to the row of tulips growing over the path.

With a stronger rev of the engine, he looked back at her for a few extra minutes to take in the picture she was leaving him. Her hair blew around her shoulders, she stood in the wet grass pulling at her night shirt and she was more beautiful with wet brown eyes than he'd ever seen. Without going into detail he gave her a wink and simply said, "Me too!"

Hermione's face winced in pain again, the cockles of her heart breaking away like a brick wall collapsing.

Sirius kicked off with this right foot and sped off down the street on hot pursuit of a gut feeling he hated to admit.

She heard the engine of his motorcycle fading out and nature's whirring sounds of a storm about to unleash beginning to surround her. Constant tears streamed down her face, her heart pounded and her stomach retching with nausea. Her ears burned with his last words to her, confirming the damage in her mind.

They loved each other.

A rolling thunder was booming in the distance, indicating that the heavier clouds were rolling in. The stillness in the air was beginning to make her stomach churn even more and she turned on her heel to dash inside, eager to leave as soon as she could. The door slammed shut behind her and she hurried up the stairs, as if time was totally against her. She had to leave, she had to get out. The night was a stranger to her and she was in the wrong world.

Her feet took the stairs two at a time, moving faster than an American football player in training through the tires. She was panting when she reached the top. She made a beeline for Sirius's bedroom where her things were. Clothes were scattered about the room both in the heat of passion and in normal disarray. All around her, she saw him. She could only imagine what was going to happen to all of his things, all of his clothes, all of the personal possessions that sat amongst the room untouched. A small part of her wished she could take things with her, but it was completely unethical.

She looked about the room, double checking for anything that might have been hers. With the rest of her clothes balled in her hands, she quickly stuffed them into her bottomless bag. Her heart rate tripled in speed, her ears buzzing. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, like she was trapped in steel prison herself.

Rushing as quickly as she could, she took one more glance around the room to double check if she was forgetting anything. Then she saw it, laying on his nightstand where he must have taken it off as if he knew, was his onyx necklace. A symbol of his past, his youth, his rebellion and there for the taking. Without a second thought of the magical repercussions of taking a piece of the past, she quickly went to it and stuffed it in her pocket. She wanted something from him. She looked again at the way the room was, the way it smelled and finally the bed where they had spent the last nights together bonded as one. Her eyes were beginning to water again.

Taking a deep breath, she left the bedroom feeling like all the air was beginning to get sucked out, but realizing it was just overwhelming emotions taking over. She sped down the stairs, her hand gliding down the banister much like his did when hurried; she could almost feel his energy. She made it to the door without looking back and slammed it tight behind her, for no reason.

She never looked back as she hurried to the sidewalk and pulled her hoodie closed tightly. Not wanting to relive anything that she'd just endured, she was eager to get home. Eager to see the damage she'd created and most importantly, eager to see Sirius - the older Sirius.

Her feet scraped hard against the damp cement sidewalk, quickly taking her to the one place that would be safe to leave this time. Down the forgotten alley, around the corner from the dilapidated phone box, to the last street of Oxford.

She ducked into the Leaky Cauldron, keeping her head low and not trying to see any faces. The pub was half empty, a few single drinkers lurking in the corners, soon to discover that the Dark Lord had been defeated, if just for a little while, and the story of Harry Potter would spread.

She made her way to the women's loo, hoping no one was inside of it. As luck would have it, she was alone when she walked into the three stall bathroom. Reeking of mildew and the sound of leaking pipes overhead, she didn't take the time to hide herself before she was already reaching under her shirt to take out the Time Turner. But before she turned it, she reached deep into her pocket and took out Sirius's necklace. Sniffing quietly to herself, the idea of Lily and James already dead and Sirius discovering that all by himself without her, the girl he was depending on and whom he had fallen in love with, made her very very sad. She tied the black chording around her neck and let it fall just against her neck like a choker. Then she ducked into one of the stalls, closed her eyes tight and turned it the correct amount of times to leave this day, this month and this year.

With a slow fade out, like at the end of a movie, Hermione Granger was gone from October 31, 1981.


	30. A Tale of Two Prisons

_A note from Serade Black:__"Maybe Someday" is a one-shot story I had intended to slot it into this one, so those that have read it might recognize it. Stay with me, for the end is in sight!_

Ch. 30

Wands in others' hands moved quickly around him. Like small bolts of lightning, streams were cast overhead as Sirius was caught off guard while staring intensely on the spot Wormtail previous stood. Strong arms reached out for Sirius, restraining him the old fashioned way as he struggled and screamed, followed by his bellowing bark-like laugh.

"Sir, all that is left it looks...is a piece of his finger," said a young junior Minister.

"That's bullocks!" Sirius shouted, feeling the severe human strength holding him back from addressing the obvious.

"Well done, Fudge. Wrap that up, it's evidence," said a more distinguished Auror that came alongside of the future Minister of Magic. His eyes followed up the length of the crazed man that mimicked a rabid animal in hysterics.

Sirius laughed louder with an insane volume. His eyes were blazing, his heart racing, his skin was hot and perspiration settled above his brow. "He killed himself! He's gone and blown himself up!" He could not stop laughing enough to fight back, but there was no doubt he was being restrained.

"Sirius Black, you've been found guilty of murder for a dozen muggles, Peter Pettigrew and James and Lily Potter-"

"No fucking way! That's wrong!" Sirius bellowed, hiding his own panic with severe laughter masking as insanity. He started to pull every way to break free from the restraints that were now being applied to him. He yelled and called out, but no one heard what he was truly saying. His shouting and demands fell upon deaf ears.

"Take him to Azkaban - no trial! The proof is now being bagged up. It's all that remains of who once stood there," said the young Junior Minister as he shook his head, surveying the scorched markings on the street and nearby wall.

"Nooo-" in a flash, Sirius's voice was cut off abruptly. He was apparated away from the public place and the circling Aurors standing by.

Dragged by his arms down the dark dripping hallway, Aurors violently escorted Sirius to a cell just beyond three small ones occupied by either corpses or nearly dead prisoners. The hallway was narrow and cold, drafty breezes came in from the cracks of the aging building and crevices that had been chipped away over time were the only hope of any light should the skies ever open up to shine through.

The darkness was closing in and Sirius fought as hard as he could, but was overpowered by stronger arms and spells that prevented him from running away. He threw his head back, pushing his feet against the stone floor like a toddler afraid of the inevitable. He screamed and cursed that his undeserved sentence was wrong, but his pleas were not heard.

As they approached the empty cell, they unlocked the iron door and slid it open before him. The grind of metal and chains objected to their rusty disturbance, but the Aurors worked it open wide enough to push Sirius in where he fell to the floor with a violent thud.

His hands slapped down hard on the cold moist stone floor. Next to him lay a tattered striped uniform, surely only laundered once since the last prisoner had worn it. Their fate unknown. But, it was his last and feeble attempt to bolt out of the dirty cell with no windows that he was knocked backwards again by strong arms clearing the way for a photographer to join him in the cell carrying his camera and a narrow name card with numbers and symbols already engraved on it.

"I didn't kill them! Get Hermione! Tell Hermione that I'm innocent!" he yelled furiously, pulling away angrily from the people that held his shoulders down as he was forced to hold his new prisoner number up. "HERMIONE!"

"Shut it, Black! You're just like the rest of your family!" said one of the Aurors that held him down.

The flashbulb ahead of them went off and Sirius's guilty maniacal image was sealed.

Hermione watched her world reappearing at a slowing speed to the more modern age. Once at the right time, her body felt heavy, tired and absolutely exhausted. She reached out to the walls of the tiny stall that surrounded her, feeling slightly unbalanced. Her head leaned against the wooden walls, slowly coming to like she'd just ridden a very fast carousel. Carefully, she pushed herself back up to a more solid standing position and made her way out of the bathroom. Her legs felt like jelly and her feet felt heavy, like rocks had been tied to them, not finding the energy to move.

It took her nearly an hour to get home from the pub. A trip that usually took her a fair ten minutes had been mildly delayed due to her constant need for rest and quick rejuvenation. Not summoning enough energy to apparate to a hidden location by Grimmauld Place, she managed to get home by way of bus, taxi and a very slow stroll down the sidewalk leading up to the street.

Finally, house number eight came into view, followed by nine, ten, eleven and then thirteen. With a gesture of her wand that was safely tucked in her pocket, number twelve emerged from between the other two tall structures.

Hermione felt her heart beginning to beat faster than it ever had before. She took a deep breath for a few minutes before opening the door to the house she'd always visited under different circumstances and now after she passed over the threshold, everything was going to change. With a hard turn of the knob she pushed through with the mustered strength she was saving up. The door closed behind her, announcing her arrival back to the house. With quiet careful baby steps, she moved slowly toward the staircase, reaching out a hand to stable her in her weakness.

The house was still and quiet and not a sound was heard. "Sirius!" she called out with anxious anxiety. She didn't know what kind of reception she'd receive. "Sirius!" she called again. Nothing in the house stirred and with the deafening sound, her adrenaline was quickly draining from her muscles. Her legs were beginning to feel weak and her ability to stand was becoming a challenge. As her head started to swim, her heart beats began to subside. She reached to her neck for the onyx necklace she wore and thought of him desperately, mentally calling his name. With only enough strength to muster a whisper, Hermione fell to her knees and then to the floor before the stairs with her mind drifting off to the sound of his voice.

*JUNE 1994*

For the first time in a very long time, Padfoot saw him.

Crookshanks had assisted Padfoot for a part of the journey, but now the rat formally known as his best friend, was being held and coddled in the hands of a boy standing next to his godson. The hair down his lean canine back stood on end; he bared his sharp canine teeth and started to salivate like he'd just seen red meat after a long time without food.

Without warning, Padfoot took off running and was airborne, knocking over the ginger and frightening the rat right out of his hands. The boy started to scurry off the ground; cries and shouts were heard. As Padfoot watched the boy take the rat into his hands again, he had no choice but to grab his leg and drag him where he was safe to transform and kill the rat on his own territory.

Ron wailed in pain, called for his friends, but they were late. He was already being dragged into the weeping willow, down the long passageway, into the shrieking shack, up the stairs and into the bedroom where it was layered with dust and broken boards.

Once Padfoot was alone with the ginger-haired boy, he transformed back into Sirius Black, a form he'd not been in for nearly nine months. The ginger yelled in fear as he coddled the rat tightly in his hands, but Sirius did not mean to frighten the boy at all. He was too driven to grab the rat from his hands, but the boy would have nothing to do with it. Harry and the young girl rushed to their friend's side and that was when Sirius rounded on them, calm, crazed, but collected.

In an instant, Sirius had three wands in his hands and watched carefully at the way Ron held the rat, his main focus. Harry had gone at Sirius with anger and hatred, murder flashed in his eyes. Though he was a thirteen year old boy, Sirius still had the advantage while being a grown man, no matter how malnourished and weak he was. He felt Harry's hands wrap around his thin wrists when they want to the floor. Long from the small baby Sirius used to bounce on his knee and toss into the air, he was now hollering and yelling at his friends, unsettling him more. It wasn't Harry's fault, he just didn't know the truth and that was why he was merely holding him down and not trying to inflict any pain. He couldn't do that to James's son.

From the corner of his eye, Sirius looked just in time to see a swift kick from a girl's shoe make contact into his face and with that, was thrown back in pain and off of Harry. He fell with a heavy thud and after a few seconds, moved his weak limbs to prop himself up. Like a broken doll, Sirius lay slumped against the wall, his eye blackening and his nose bleeding from the kick to the face. Over him stood the young face of his best friend with his wand, now given to him by the young girl once it was kicked away, aimed directly at his chest.

"You killed my parents!"

Sirius rested his head against the wall, his eyes in sunken sockets looked up and he was catching his breath. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he managed, "Yes, I don't deny that, Harry." He felt so worn, so beaten and continued, "But, you should know the whole story..."

Everything was happening so fast for Sirius as he lay against the wall. His hair was long and matted, his teeth yellowed and rotting, his cheeks sunken and his body thin and weak. Finally enlightened by seeing an ally, Remus had come in to help set the history straight and reunite their longtime friendship. Moments had passed, the tension had begun to melt away, and it was then that Sirius had started to pay attention to the people in the room with them.

Remus paced the room, after handing all three of the kids their wands back, leaving Sirius without one. Upon retelling the story, Remus said a name that stirred Sirius's attention, forcing him to pull himself off the floor.

_Hermione..._

Sirius stood using the wall as leverage. He slid himself up against it, his eyes peering over the room to Ron still holding Wormtail, to his godson Harry and then finally on the young girl Remus had made several intelligent references to. She was the one screaming not too long ago, she was the one telling everyone Remus was a werewolf, she was the one that had kicked him in the face, but as he looked at her with wide open eyes, he felt his insides twist. He scanned over her very young face, her childish features and the unmistakable way she furrowed her brow when worried. Remus had said her name again, repeating it over and over, as if to alert Sirius any more than he already had.

For a split second the two men exchanged looks as Sirius glanced over to Hermione and then back at him again to see if he was right. With a subtle nod, he acknowledged him and confirmed his query. And then it hit him - she wasn't supposed to be there all those years ago.

Sirius slowly pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the four poster bed where Ron was laying with his bleeding broken leg. Taking up very little space, he let his shoulders sink and hid his face into his hand feeling beaten and worn.

_She wasn't supposed to be there with him. She's from this time. She's Harry's best friend. She knew me...she knew this me. She didn't give up on me when I went into Azkaban...she had to leave. And all this time, I thought she had been killed._ He glanced up at her as she stood watching Remus like a hawk and for a moment, their eyes met and he saw something in her for the very first time...fear. She looked upon him like the killer he was made out to be and because of that, she looked away. _You have no idea, yet. You're just so young...Hermione. I spent so many nights calling your name, dreaming of you and thinking of the last thing we said to each other. You knew everything that was going to happen...including this. How could you not do anything - because, you couldn't. It wasn't your time._

*SUMMER 1995*

Hermione arrived two weeks before Harry did to number twelve Grimmauld Place, Sirius's present home prison. Having offered his childhood home for the Order headquarters, he had since been able to go through his father's old clothing, eat healthier meals (thanks to Molly) and start the long road to recovery. He had a lot of time to reflect when the house was empty, but lately, since it was a place for Order members to meet up, he had been able to keep quite a bit of company. Remus had come into the house in between rendezvous with the werewolves, Dumbledore had done his fair share of check-ups and as of late, nearly the entire Weasley contingency had moved into the vacant rooms while assisting with a good cleanse.

Sirius never forgot the evening that Hermione arrived to the strange house. She'd had her trunk and cat sent to Grimmauld Place ahead of her, ready to travel with other Order members for her own safety. She stepped in through the front door with Mad-Eye Moody, her bag clutched securely in front of her, looking up and around wildly, trying desperately to take in her surroundings.

"Ginny is upstairs, Hermione. Second landing, first door on the right." Molly Weasley came out from the kitchen door and offered a hug as she sent her on.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as she slipped in and started up the stairs.

For the entire exchange, Sirius stayed at the top landing. His room was only a few doors down from Ginny's and he waited so that he could watch Hermione. He bit his lip in awe of how good a summer she'd had by the looks of her female form coming into her own. Now fifteen, Hermione was beginning to develop into a delicate woman that would only be warned about men his type.

When she reached the top, Sirius took a few steps out of the shadows so as not to startle her, when it was she that smiled first to greet him. "Mr. Black-"

Sirius cleared his throat, reminding her that he was not like the other adults and preferred not to be called so politely.

"Sorry, Sirius." She couldn't help but smile as she shied away when he stepped closer. "You're looking really good, healthy. You're starting to look like you don't belong in Azkaban."

"Well, that is the idea," he said with warm slight charm.

"It's good to see you living," she said, lingering in the hallway longer than when she'd talk to any other adult in the house.

"I'm getting by," he said low. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her in order to go down the stairs without looking back. It was getting too painful.

*CHRISTMAS 1995*

As everyone gathered in the sitting room for an eggnog or brandy, Sirius lingered by the doorway looking in. He felt like, aside from Harry, he was looking into someone else's family through a portrait. Almost all the Weaselys were in attendance, Tonks was sitting in the corner making Ginny laugh with her many noses, Mad Eye was speaking quietly with Kingsley and Arthur was leading a song behind the grand piano that was still covered in a thin layer of dust.

Harry looked up from where he sat as he played wizard's chess with Ron and watched how his godfather looked so out of place. So forlorn and out of touch, it truly proved to him that they were more alike than they cared to admit and just like the Weasleys had for him, he was going to make sure Sirius knew he was part of a family.

"Sirius is just standing there, not joining," Harry said to his two closest friends. Hermione looked up from the pillow she hugged, watching the game with severe intensity.

"He's just afraid to join. He's been away for so long, I can see how lonely he must feel." Hermione glanced from Sirius, back to the game. Sirius's behavior was not unusual after what he'd gone through.

"Your move, mate. He's fine." Ron was too into the game to take notice and changed his leaning position on his elbows.

Next to the piano, Ginny took the lead with Remus and the two of them began to waltz around the room. Ginny reminisced about the Yule Ball and how Neville had practically danced her to death with his charmed shoes of that night.

"Hermione, you should go over and dance with Sirius," Harry suggested, looking from Sirius to his best friend, believing it to be a brilliant idea.

Hermione glanced first at Ron to check for any change and then to Sirius, who lingered at the door, looking quite content. "I'm sure he wouldn't want to dance with me. Besides, it looks like Ginny already took your idea, anyway."

This time, all three of them watched as Ginny approached Sirius and removed his brandy glass from his hand. With a more dominant approach, Ginny allowed Sirius to step in closer and dance with her properly as he displayed a much warmer acceptance. The sound of Sirius's laughter filled the room and everyone couldn't help but smile with the way she dragged him, more than he dragged her in circles within the sitting room and audience.

At the end of holidays, Sirius said good-bye to everyone while standing in the foyer. Like a short assembly line, each young person said good-bye with hand shakes and "good lucks", but it was Hermione that he seemed to take the longest with, after Harry of course. She was the last one to go through, having to still pull on her jacket. Appearing like she could have used a little help, Sirius stepped in and assisted the young girl with her coat and then watched as she spun around to thank him.

"Thank you, Sirius. Thank you for letting us use your house, as well."

"Well, it's alright. Not the best memories for me, but that's all changing now, I can see. No idea how long I'll stay in it, though." Sirius said, occasionally looking away so as not to get lost in her pretty eyes. It burned from within as he reminded himself that she was only fifteen years old and knew nothing.

"Please, for all our sakes, but especially Harry's, stay inside. Don't risk anything, it's just too dangerous." Hermione sounded so mature with what she spoke of. Sirius made certain to make a mental note about it.

"What's life without a little risk, eh? Surely, being with James's son has proved challenging?"

"At times. It also can be trying at the same time, but I don't mention that," she giggled, lifting her scarf and tying it around her neck.

"Just stay out of trouble. Both of you," he added, folding his arms before him.

"I won't promise anything," she smiled and walked closer to him. "Thank you, Sirius."

Without warning, without reason, well maybe with a harmless reason, she opened her arms to him and offered a hug. Their first hug together! He welcomed her in, pulling her close and feeling her hands circle around his neck. For those few seconds, he took in all he could - her smell, her touch, her warmth. They were all simple gentle reminders of what he was missing, or what was to come. She had no idea.

With a final wave, all the children were gone and just like that the house had filtered out and was empty. Left to his thoughts and with Kreacher, Sirius stood in the foyer again, staring at a closed door. Solitude had its perks, but not when there was a war out there and he couldn't fight. He thought about Harry, he thought about Remus, he thought about Tonks and he frequently thought about Hermione.

When in Azkaban, his thoughts turned to her. He often wondered why she didn't try and visit him while he was incarcerated; she of all people would know he was innocent. Or would she? Perhaps she had believed the same as Remus. He thought her absence could have been blamed on her death. After he'd left, maybe Voldemort had gotten to her, knowing full well that she was of value to him. But, all that changed when he saw her two years ago in the shrieking shack and with luck, she was with Harry. No luck, actually. Fate. Everything was becoming more and more clear.

Hermione had always been Harry's best friend, so something must have happened in the future that made her go back in time, but what? He's questioned her travels and her knowledge of what was going to happen to the Potters. Should she have gone back to save them? Of course she should have. She should have warmed him about everything!

"But, you know she couldn't, Padfoot," Remus said as he joined Sirius in the sitting room one late night.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" Sirius asked as he watched his friend entering the room.

"Because, I've seen the way you look at her. Be careful friend, she might get the wrong idea too early."

"Not now, Remus. She could have stopped it all - James could still be here!"

"But, that would have changed everything that's already happened. Believe me, I would want him here too, but it had already happened, friend. She couldn't have gone back to fix all that had happened after all this time. She'd used her Time Turner for classes, but that was it. She risked a great deal to go back to you."

"But, why?"

"We don't know yet. It doesn't happen for another six years, my friend."

"Great. What the hell am I going to do for the next six years until then? I'm already living in paradise, aren't I?" Sirius chuckled sarcastically. He rested his head against the back cushion, staring up to the ceiling and noticing cracks that needed to be repaired. "I'll be nearly forty-two by the time she's old enough to remember. If I could just freeze myself right now, maybe then it would be worth it."

"Not sure, but don't risk anything now. Don't make any stupid decisions that might get you locked up again in the meantime, alright?"

"Yes, Remus," he humored like an old married couple. "When did you first figure out that it was her?"

"It was at a staff meeting a couple of years ago. McGonagall had mentioned that she had loaned a Time Turner out to a student intending to use it for extra classes. It wasn't until a few periods into it that I pieced together and believed it was the same, Hermione."

Sirius nodded while still staring off into space. He listened to the cracking of the fire that was slowly fading out for the night.

"I never told you this," Remus began again, "but, I knew when she was with us, that she didn't belong there."

Sirius glanced to his friend, darkly intrigued by this news, "How so?"

"One night, at James and Lily's house, I watched her lean over to pick up Harry and her Time Turner slid out of her shirt. I saw it immediately. I also made several references to the book she was currently reading on time travel and it all fit."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" Sirius said with a raised voice and now sitting on the edge of his seat, as if wanting to know every detail about it. Had he known it all back then, might have saved him the heartache he felt for so long. In seconds, he started to develop a sort of displease with his best friend.

"I couldn't. I shouldn't even have known; there was too much to risk. And besides..."

"Yes? Besides, what?" Sirius encouraged, hanging on his every word.

"Besides, you were happy, Sirius. I had never seen you that happy with anyone, before. You deserved it and if not knowing helped the pain, then so be it."

Sirius stared at his friend for a few seconds longer, absorbing his sincere words and letting them truly sink in. They were the truth, for he was happy. He was content. He felt that he'd found that person that completed him and gave him balance, only to learn that she didn't belong there in the first place. Hermione had meant the world to him and for all those reasons alone...he fell in love with her.

Sirius slowly lay back into the chair, allowing it to comfort him. Thoughts of his past and the enjoyable moments he had shared nearly a lifetime ago were all that he really had those days. Memories of James, the way life was, the way he was, who he was and now what had happened were forming into the realty that surrounded him. With a slight nod he spoke in a quite voice, "Thank you."

A few days passed after that conversation and Sirius was alone in the house again. The old grandfather clock in the sitting room ticked away for every second that he took a step.

His thick booted foot gracefully stepping along the high quality carpet was a memory of his solitude, because he was alone. The house settled around him as he slid his hands into the pockets of his thick corduroy jacket; his fingers passed over the chain of his watch.

He could see the tips of his wavy black hair in his peripheral vision as he bowed his head down, walking along the edge of the carpet before the stairs and by the front door. His loneliness was at an all time high. Even just hearing the sound of Kreacher, the house-elf, tinkering away somewhere would have lightened him just to know he wasn't completely alone, but the little rodent had been asleep for most of the afternoon.

Sirius slowly walked into the sitting room, following the sound of the tick-tock as if to believe that something remotely interesting or new would catch his attention. His boots taking him the same way he'd walked before, knowing their routine rather well. His eyes scanned the walls, looking at the portraits for the umpteenth time as they went about their business. The fire was settling, crackling away the rest of the remaining wood that sizzled.

He thought back about the "kids" and their rushed departure of the house. He remembered seeing Hermione ducking her head into the empty room that displayed his horrid family tree, announcing to Harry that it was time to leave. He'd half wanted to beg him to stay. For all of them to stay - Harry, Ron, George, Fred, Ginny and Hermione. To stay and leave him some life in the house, leaving him with having someone new to interact with, each with a different personality. But, they had to return to school. They had lives of their own.

He picked a thread off of his jacket, dusting away any residual lint with his fingertips when his eyes caught a short leather bound book lying comfortably on the coffee table before him. A nice clean black leather cover hid its secrets; Sirius not yet knowing the value it held. He leaned over and picked it up, opening it in his hand. Blank pages of parchment looked back at him, freshly clean and never written on. He fingered through the pages, checking to see if it had anything in it at all. From what he could see, it was just an empty leather bound book with plain pages.

He tilted his head in query, wondering where it came from. It wasn't his and it served no other purpose other than someone's potential notepad. Curious to one more possibility, he took his wand out of his pocket and held the tip of it to the center of the empty pages.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said with a smirk. Surely, it wouldn't be that easy.

Just like the Marauder's Map that he helped create, the pages before him started to bleed through with ink. Scribble in a feminine hand started to show and he soon learned that it was more than just an empty book. He turned to the first page and as he read the first words, he smiled. A warm guilt settled in his chest.

He chuckled in his throat as his lips turned into a small smile, "So, predictable."

_"This is the diary of Hermione Jean Granger, aged 13."_

The thick bound book that rested in his hands was like a sacred chronology to Hermione, obviously left behind as she returned to school. Tempted as he was to thumb through her most treasured thoughts, he quickly closed the book with a loud thud, protecting her from what she may not wish to be known.

But, then again, what she didn't know couldn't hurt her and what he did know, might help him. After all, he was an unsuspecting adult with nothing else up his sleeve. Honest, Gov! Who was he kidding? He was Sirius Black!

Knowing he was alone, except for Kreacher, he looked around anyway, just in case Remus had returned from a rendezvous early. When the coast was clear he dashed to the couch, threw his feet on the table and settled in to read the ramblings of a teenage girl.

_"Dear Diary,_

_Today is my thirteenth birthday and I'm now officially a teenager. Far from the days of a mere child, I finally set forth to begin my journey to be the girl, or woman, I choose. For example, just last week I finally got my -"_

Sirius quickly thumbed through the pages, and cleared his throat, "Perhaps, I'll start a little older."

He was curious about secrets, but not those secrets. It just made the whole idea even creepier with him being...well, as old as he was and she only fifteen. He moved towards the middle of the book, close to where the blank pages began again to entries somewhat recent, like the beginning of winter holidays.

_"Dear Diary,_

_I've watched him for quite awhile, now. Seeing him in August and now during the holidays has been such a transformation. Harry loves him and I know that if he could, he would gladly drop out of school and leave just to be with him. But, seeing such an amazing piece of legendary history residing in the same place I am is just a little overwhelming."_

Wait, is she talking about him?

"_I'd love to sit him down and ask him so many things about that night, about what happened when he was first in the Order or what should we expect in the coming years? Sirius Black-"_

Guess so.

_"Sirius Black is one of those people that you want to hug one minute, because of what he's gone through and then turn around and punch in the face, because of how snarky and irresponsible he can be. Granted, he would lay down in front of the Hogwarts Express for Harry, and that's commendable, but sometimes I think that he does truly see Harry as James."_

He snorted in jest, "I do not."

_"But, even just the same, I do wish I was able to reach out to him. But, I know that he sees me as nothing more than a child. If he only knew what I've learned, perhaps then he'd listen to me or at least speak to me like I was someone at his level. But, until I'm no longer a Hogwarts student, I can't bet on it too soon._

_I can only think that in his mind and in his own private world, it's much like living in a glass house and watching the world pass him by. He's forced to watch the people he knows go on with their lives, be involved and it's as if he's been left behind. I think he really believes he's been forgotten in some way and sadly, I don't blame him. He needs someone to understand him and I wish, so dearly, that it was me."_

"All right, love, where are you going with this?" he asked aloud, as if she was there reading every word to him. The quietness around encompassed him as the night outside crept along. Suddenly, having her thoughts in his hands lessened the loneliness, even if just for a few pages.

_"I'm fifteen, but as Bill and Charlie told me, I'm not like girls my age. That's not surprising. Girls my age are too hung up on material things and for me that takes way too much time, in my opinion. _

_I would like to believe that as I get older, I'll reach out and try to find someone that I can relate to or someone I can have a strong conversation with. I want someone that has seen the world or is not afraid to experience it. I suppose that being an only child has that sort of repercussions at times, but then again, I wouldn't have traded my moments alone for anything in the world. I only wish that when the time comes, I'll meet someone that has stories and lessons to tell me. Perhaps, someone like, Sirius._

_Someone like Sirius would be my ideal and I hate to admit that I know I've watched him at certain times a little inappropriately too long. Aside from being incredibly handsome for a man his age, I can see his sexuality resonating from his past."_

"Resonate? Good word, love."

_"I don't see Remus like that, so I know it's not a generalization. It's just Sirius. Where he's been, what he knows, what he does, where he stands and his integral part to the Harry Potter saga all equals up to someone worth knowing. Who knows, maybe when I get older, I might try to pursue something with him, but I doubt it. Someone like him won't stay single long. He truly has too much to offer and I'm just someone that probably won't stand up to his expectations._

_In the meantime, I'll do what I can just to see the way he lights up a room with the sound of his laugh or the way he tends to wink when he's proud of something he says. Even a girl like me can have their dream guy._

_For now, good night - Hermione"_

Sirius closed the book slowly, like he'd just finished the last page of a well written saga. His eyes stared off into the space before him, taking a moment to remember the words he'd read and her voice speaking them to him as he sat there alone in the house. He could almost see her writing in the book, alone in the room she shared with Ginny, alone in her own thoughts.

His eyes looked down to the front of the bound book and he lightly traced his fingers over the Celtic design of the cover, believing that he could almost feel her energy on it. Thinking hard, he was tempted to read on and maybe he would, but not now. Not when his last thoughts of her were she leaving him to return back to Hogwarts and finish up her studies.

"So young," he whispered to himself. Momentary guilt passed over him as he counted the years they had between them. He closed his eyes hard, firming his lips in a grimace and sighing long and heavy. "Just, so young."

He took to heart what she'd said in her most intimate times. He was moved by her thoughts, but most of all, he was quietly elated that she already understood him.

*SIX MONTHS LATER*

It had been ages since Sirius had been out in his human form in front of people. Dressed sharp and ready to impress, he appeared with the other Aurors and Order members to rescue the children from the Department of Mysteries. Behind masks, eyes widened at the very sight of Sirius and his alliance with the Order members. Seeing him dancing and fighting with courage and bravery next to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the man leading the manhunt for Sirius Black at the Ministry, would have surprised quite a few officials should they have appeared.

Dumbledore had arrived to Level 9, but Bellatrix and Sirius continued to duel. Dodging each other's streams from their wands, the two laughed and taunted each other like they did as children growing up. Remus watched on as Sirius was in his own element, wand blazing, fighting the battle he always wanted to. But, it was the final taunt, the final threat to Bellatrix that caught him off guard.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius called and in an instant, he was struck in the chest. The element of surprise still on his face as he staggered backwards and fell into the veil.

All the air escaped from Remus as he watched his best friend fall, practically in slow motion, to his death beyond reach. The last piece of trust he had, his last connection to the past was gone, and he was all alone. His eyes immediately fell on Harry who, for only seconds, was just contemplating where his godfather had gone. Remus rushed behind him, throwing his arms around the young James, before he went after Sirius into the dark empty void.

Harry struggled against him, fighting and begging, but the truth was hard to grasp. Had Remus not clung to Harry as tight as he could, Harry would be gone too.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry!" Remus shouted, holding his arms firmly across Harry's chest.

"Get him, save him! He's only just gone through!" Harry pled.

"It's too late, Harry-"

"We can still reach him-"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry," Remus struggled against him, "It's too late, he's gone."

"He hasn't gone! SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry," said Remus, his voice breaking. "He can't come back, because, he's d-"

Harry struggled with all his might and after Remus slacked his grip, he went after Bellatrix screaming aloud she'd killed him.

Remus was powerless and did not struggle; he only fell where he stood. His face fell into his hands as he quietly sobbed for his fallen friend. "This shouldn't have happened, Sirius. This isn't the way it was supposed to go!"


	31. A Life's Work Begun

_A note from Serade Black: __Well, I can see that a few of you readers ended up liking the combination canon and what happened to the characters when unseen. A side note on reviews, I won't lie, I love them. I like to see what people like and if they approve of the direction I'm taking it. Not to mention, the readers' theories of what they "think" will happen. That's my favorite! ~SB_

Chapter 31 - A Life's Work Begun

*FOUR YEARS LATER*

Nineteen year old Hermione was dusting along the edge of the bookshelf that sat on the first landing just to the left of the stairs. It was old and raggedy, but refused to be moved because of the neat look it had. Worn shelves that were previously lined with century old books on the Dark Arts were now catalogued with books of gardening and favored muggle authors. Scorched marks stood out of the dark cherry wood as a light reminder of Sirius dueling with his brother Regulus when they were children; a keen memory they wanted to keep alive, even years after Sirius's death.

"Hermione?" Remus called from the first floor. He'd come out of the kitchen with a dish rag in his hand.

"I'm up here," she called over the banister, flourishing her duster at him like a wand. "Doing muggle work!"

He smiled as he looked upon her, admiring the way she said it so lightly. "An owl came for you. I think it's from Ron, because it's got a heart shaped box attached to it."

"You can have the chocolates, Remus. I'm just tired of letting him think everything will be okay, as long as bribery is attached," she explained, shaking her head. Her waves fell in front of her shoulders as she leaned further over the banister.

"He's just a boy, love. He doesn't know any better," Remus soothed, looking up at her like Juliet in the window. He shook his head at the fact that she was wasting her time with someone that no longer stimulated her.

"I know, I know. But, love conquers all, doesn't it?" she said passively, leaning on her elbows. The duster hung in her hand.

"Yes...and no," he said hesitantly. "It doesn't stand a chance, if you're not happy."

"I know. Maybe I should just throw it all away and run away with you!" She smiled sweetly.

He smiled back platonically and added, "Perhaps, but I'm not your type."

She knew his sincere smile was harmless and she never thought more from him. He was always her friend, her trusted friend that saw things the same and it was comforting to have that. "No, Remus, I think someone like you would be just what I needed."

He shook his head, knowing a few secrets of his own, "Only if someone like me was worthy to deserve someone like you." She smiled again and teased her duster above him before turning around to continue tackling dust bunnies the size of ping pong balls.

The purple feathers of her cleaning wand brushed passed titles that she couldn't help but read. She perused the bound edges out of habit, in the event that something had snuck their way up on the shelf worth reading, or rereading. Pausing over a blank title, but taking a second glance over it, she reached a finger to pull it out of its line up.

Laying her duster down on the shelf it came off of, she opened it up in her hand, listening to the bounded paper breaking open from a few years worth of settling closed. Blank pages looked back at her, strengthening her accusation.

"I thought I'd lost this," she said to herself, taking her real wand to point at the pages. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Just as she thought, the pages came to life with the handwritten ramblings of a teen witch. The first pages brought her back to when she first received the book as a present and the last entry reminding her of her stay over the holidays at Grimmauld Place when she was fifteen. The entry went on about her view of Sirius and his solitude in the house. A private life she never got the chance to tell him she understood.

Hermione flipped to the last entry, the one she made the night before she left the house as she sat alone late in the night on the couch in the sitting room. Everyone else had gone to bed early that evening, hoping to regain some sleep lost during their holidays for a fresh new start for the new term. She remembered vividly how Kreacher's outer-inner monologue had accused her of leaving undesirable scents on the ancient furniture that reeked of "mudblood", a term she had gotten used to hearing from uncivilized company.

Her eyes scanned down over her own words, but it was the small script on the opposite page that caught her eye. There, not in her hand, were two words and a signature.

"Maybe someday. - Sirius"

Her hands clutched the book tighter, her fingers pressing hard on their grip. Shortness of breath came and her knees got weaker. She dropped herself to the first step to sit down, newly fearful of her height and the long way down. She felt drained, emotionless and just numb. The man she had thought about through the years was speaking to her from beyond the grave.

That was the day Hermione decided to put her request to be transferred to Level Nine: Department of Mysteries. It was then that she began her work; her mission undoing what wrongs had been done. Most importantly, she was about to set her mind to rescuing those that had fallen beyond the Veil, making Sirius her most concentrated specimen.

*PRESENT DAY*

The day was cool and windy. Leaves were falling must faster these days and Remus looked up into the sky to see the way the clouds were rushing by overhead. Soon they would be amongst the cold holidays with fires and friends. As he took out his wand and tapped the door handle, he was careful to look both ways up the walk in case any onlookers were lurking behind.

He pushed the door open and in the foyer he saw the fallen body of Hermione. Her backpack lay not too far from her as if it was just dropped to her side, her clothing different than when she left a few hours ago and around her neck was a black chord with a familiar looking necklace that he hadn't seen in years.

"You're home now," he whispered, checking her forehead and overall statistics. It appeared that she was just over tired and could no longer stand, for all her body wanted to do was sleep.

Very carefully, Remus kicked the door shut behind him and lifted Hermione up into his arms. She did not fall like a broken doll, but managed to wrap her hands around her carrier's neck, mumbling small incoherent sentences.

"Remus...have to see...Sirius," she murmured.

"Soon enough love. He's close. Just rest," he whispered carrying her up the stairs. They creaked heavily under each foot, cursing him with the doubled weight at a time.

When he reached her bedroom door, he nudged it open with his knee and went to lay her down in her bed. He contemplated changing her clothes, but settled on only removing her shoes. He pulled a loose blanket up over her shoulders, watching as she took to the comforts quickly and turned her face into her own pillow.

Upon returning down the stairs, Remus watched Sirius coming in through the door. Carrying a few groceries, Sirius nodded to his friend and continued down the hallway to the kitchen at the end without saying a word. Though, he may have heard something of a light hum.

A few minutes behind his friend into the kitchen, Remus braced himself with how he was going to tell Sirius that Hermione was home. Everything was going to change in a matter of minutes, or everything was going to remain the same, depending on how the two interacted. It was difficult to say.

Sirius quietly tinkered away in the kitchen, moving slower than he normally did, putting away tea bags and a few food items. His movements were slow and concentrated, like his brain was moving too quickly between things, even the simplest task was somewhat difficult to manage. He was either walking on air or eggshells, depending on how you watched the way he carefully moved the milk on a shelf in the refrigerator like it were made of shattered glass.

Remus watched his friend carefully, closely guarding the news. He pulled out a chair, making it scrape along the century worn floor, to gracefully slide in to ready himself. "Sirius," he began.

Like he'd been snuck up on, Sirius jolted just slightly and immediately turned around, still holding a wrapped package of tea bags in his left hand. "Remus, don't do that!"

He had been serious and collected up until now, but it was the funny expression on his friend's face that made Remus smirk just a bit. He sat there looking up at his friend with his palms open and honest, surprised more than anything that he had startled him. It was nearly comical with the way Sirius had wrapped himself up so tight in the anticipation of Hermione's inevitable return, it was almost cruel not to tell him, just so the poor bloke could relax just a bit.

"My friend, take a moment to collect yourself, for you look incredibly spent."

"Remus, I don't have time for your criticism. Go do something else useful," said Sirius, still clutching his tea bags protectively before walking across the kitchen to the pantry.

With a slight nod and a genuine smile, he finally announced, "She's home."

The sound of tea bags hitting the floor echoed off the stony walls. The clocked ticked loudly in the hallway, making every second count longer and longer. The air felt dense and had nearly stilled; the tension already building up to an undetermined thickness.

Sirius froze for a few seconds before laying a hand on his chest and the other through his hair nervously. The moment he'd waited for so long had finally come and he was without any words with how to approach it. He'd gone over in his head what he would say the first he saw her, but with the very idea that she was back in the house with the newfound knowledge of their love affair and everything dangerous around it had left him with barely enough air to breathe.

"Did you see her? Did she ask for me? What did she say? Where is she?" The words tumbled out of Sirius like they were on fire. Barely comprehending anything, Remus just chuckled, amused by his friend acting like a school girl himself. "Fuck you, Remus!"

"There you are, I was getting worried," he teased. "She was exhausted, both mentally and physically and so I helped her up to bed."

"She's in bed? She's sleeping? She is here, though?"

"She is resting, yes. She needs it, right now. The poor girl must have collapsed at the foot of the stairs. I don't gather she was there long. You just missed her."

"Did she say anything? Is she alright?" Sirius took a few steps closer to his friend, reaching out for the chair that sat opposite him.

"She was fine, friend," Remus assured.

Sirius slowly slid into the chair before him, paled and like he'd just received the biggest shock of his life. His eyes looked on, staring at a ragged sot on the long wooden table in front of him. Once seated, his hands splayed out in front of him, grounding himself to keep it together. His insides started to tumble and as his eyes began to dry up, he finally remembered to blink.

Remus saw his cue to leave Sirius to his thoughts and let the two have their time, regardless of the outcome. Eventually Hermione would wake up, or Sirius would wake her up and they would have to come to terms with where they stood - good or bad. He passed his friend, almost to the door when he looked back to Sirius still staring in the opposite direction.

"She said your name, Sirius," he said calmly, still staring at the back of his friend's head. "I'll be at Tonks's if you need me."

Sirius heard the front door open and close, a few portraits whisper and finally he was left alone in the house...with Hermione only a few floors above him. His subtle movements were only to move away a few stray hairs that had fallen into his sightlines and as he reflected on everything, a small slight smile began to pass over his lips. Like prayers finally being answered, it sunk into him like warm water on the coldest day and it soothed his inner core that she had said his name.

For the longest time, he held onto the thoughts of her diary and her musings regarding him back then. Why else would she have been driven to rescue him or even see him in a painful past? So many questions without enough answers to determine her state. Instead, he was forced to sit in silence and mull things over until she came to him.

Sirius slowly stood, after he had made up his mind to wait for her, to fix himself a cup of tea. It wouldn't settle his nerves enough, no, only Firewhisky could calm him now, but at least it would mentally prepare and keep his mind occupied for a bit longer. The answer was always in a cup of tea. So, with that, he very carefully tucked his chair back under the table he sat at and began taking a cup down from the cupboard. With a moment's hesitation, his fingers lingered over the cup and just in case, he reached up to take a second cup down to ready for potential company.

Warm beams of sunlight started to bask their healing powers over the sleeping young witch. Her curls, a wild mane like a tigress, spread over her pillow as her hand started to reach up to touch her lips. The soft touch of her own hand woke her and her eyes fluttered open into the sunlight. While slowly coming back to life, her eyes started to focus, her mind started to balance and her memories were beginning to drift back into place.

Her eyes moved wildly in her head before she shot up from under the blanket. She looked all around her, recognizing the guestroom as her current bedroom in Grimmauld Place. The Grimmauld Place in the year 2001. Over to the side, two suitcases were placed carefully with dirty clothes from her previous residence. On the vanity, a few pictures were pinched in the frame of the mirror, displaying happier times with her, Harry and Ron from Hogwarts days.

She was home.

If her feet could take to the floor any faster, she'd have flown to her bedroom door. With an unexplainable strength, she threw open the door and ran to the railing in the hallway that peered down below to the bottom floors. The gigantic chandelier hung magnanimously down the center as fresh portraits ogled at its grandeur. Her hands clutched the railing tightly, as if she were to suddenly fall off the great height. Her throat was dry, but she pushed through, her heart racing a mile a minute.

"SIRIUS!" she bellowed down below.

Her voice rang through the house with such an operatic sound it was almost hypnotizing. The portraits jumped with a start as they looked around to find the voice that had called their master's name. Somewhere on her floor, Kreacher dropped a dish, causing a muffled crash. Without waiting for any response, she started down the stairs with great haste.

The downstairs kitchen door was blasted through with equal strength. At the sound of her voice calling his name, he immediately dropped his tea cup and took to his feet. Hurrying down the hallway to the foot of the stairs, he looked above him, eager to see her. Once their eyes met and he saw that she was flying down the staircase with furious tension, he froze where he stood, right before the first step.

She gripped the railing of the old wooden squared staircase tighter, using it to guide her safely to the bottom floor. She practically broke into a run once she saw him coming in from the hallway, waiting for her like a prince in a dream. He looked so rugged, so handsome, only a few years older, but practically perfect in her eyes that she was already wondering if he was still the same. She wondered if after all his years away from her, if she would still have the same effect on him, or if they harbored the same chemistry they once did. His hair was longer now, just past his shoulders with a slight curl. His face a bit sharper, more refined and not quite as youthful when she'd left him. Still, he was heaven in her eyes and he was there waiting for her. Standing proud and alert, he'd come when he'd been called.

She was getting closer to the bottom stair now. The railing her lifeline. He waited, he knew. She wondered, she needed to know.

But, when she got to the end of the staircase, she stopped. As if an invisible rope had pulled her back from leaping at him like a frolicking school girl, she stopped abruptly on the last step. She could not move, she was frozen on the spot with nowhere to go. But, she didn't want to leave. She wanted to look at him, admire him, talk to him, hug him, love him, caress him...but, he was different now.

Far from the young man with life in his blood, far from the twenty-two year old that thrived on riding his motorcycle and hanging with Stubby Boardman. He was a grown man now, a man in his late thirties, a man with a life, a past, and it was no place for someone like her to take up residence. She doubted everything she had set her heart on down to the detail of their attire not matching with her in jeans and a jumper and he decked out in a fitted jacket, dark buttoned shirt, vest, pocket watch and charcoal colored trousers.

The two just stood there like statues, blinking once or twice to encourage something, anything, just whatever in order to make these moments not last as long as they felt. It could have been hours that they didn't speak, but it had only been seconds. She wanted to say something, anything, but was so scared deep down that she was sure he hated her. He must have hated every fiber in her body for what she'd done, what she'd caused, or what she'd known and not bothered to change a thing about what had happened.

Everything that had happened had been the reason why she stood there now. Standing there, because he knew her and had once loved her. She stood there, because the life he had after her was still the past she'd witnessed and was still the reason he had remained her friend throughout her adolescent years. He was there, because it had all happened...even before she left. He had always known. He knew that the reason she stood there before him at that moment, was because she didn't know what to think.

When she had reached the last stair, she could barely breathe. It was incredibly surreal seeing him for the first time through different eyes and she could only wonder what he was thinking in return. She had so many opportunities to change the way things had ended up, so many chances to go back and save James and Lily, so many times to tell him everything...but, she couldn't. Now, only now, did she consider the amount of hatred and loathing he must have harbored for her. So many years had passed for him to say what he had wanted, and now the moment had come. Would he yell, scream, or hex her? Would he banish her from the house of his fathers and forbid her to ever see Harry again?

As he only watched her, like she to him, she felt her insides quivering. She felt no strength, no power, only sadness and pity for the man before her. She wanted him to stop hurting, wanted him to return to the person he once was, and wanted more than anything to know how special he truly was, even if she wasn't the person to tell him. Oh, how he must have hated her. With his taunting lips, gently curled hair and amazingly strong hands that clenched into fists at his sides, he remained her constant tease. But, he was different, now. Different, but exactly the same.

Finally, she was able to muster enough strength to speak to him, dreading his ticking time bomb reaction. Her voice was almost a desperate whisper. "I wish I could have told you."

He was still; he said nothing. He just watched her, waiting, but for what?

Very timidly, she raised a hand up to reach out to him as if he were a snake about to attack. Her hand was hesitant and twice she had pulled it back slightly, but she needed something, some connection, some thrill of being close to him, even if it were only the tips of her fingers grazing over the fabric of his coat. Her throat was burning, her eyes wetting, mentally pleading to him to say something, anything, just give her a sign that he heard her voice. Instead, he stood still enough to believe he was petrified.

She took another deep breath, hoping she would get a response, for her insides were blazing. She wanted to know if he was the same man after all those years, she needed to know if he tasted just as delicious, or if the way he held her made her feel safe and loved just like always, but she knew the chances were just so slim as every second passed without something from him. Her heart beat so fast, she was practically short of breath. She held onto the railing of the staircase tightly with her other hand, fearful that her legs would give out under her.

"I never meant to hurt you, Sirius," she confessed, gazing into his misty grey orbs. "I love you and I'm sorry if you-"

He swooped in on her like an eagle; she never saw his hands reach out to hold her face. He kissed her fiercely, demanding and with dire need like a man that had gone without water for years.

Oh gods! It was the same!

The same tender lips, the same taste, the same haunting whispers of an unshaven cheek. She felt his hands traveling down over her shoulders and to her waist the way they used to, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her to pull her close against his body. She felt safe, she felt wanted, she felt desired and she couldn't get enough of him. She couldn't get enough of the way he slid his tongue over hers or the panting between hot kisses that were barely enough to satisfy. It was so much better than before, he was a new Sirius.

His hold on her was enough to practically lift her off the bottom step. She slid her arms around his neck mechanically, pulling herself closer so that there was hardly any space between them. Her fingers ran through his hair, lightly scratching and pulling affectionately and with desperate need. He growled against her mouth, hungry for her passion and eager to get as much out of her as possible. Their bodies were tight and close.

Unbelievable emotions began to overwhelm him for being eternally grateful to hold her again, after so many unkind years. He tried his best to hide his weakness, but failed as his eyes felt moist and his heart beat fiercely in his chest. His passion with her was more than he had anticipated. It was enough to dismiss all of this between them and get on with discussing the rest of their lives from that moment on. But, instead, he held her firmly, not wanting to let her go. She was the very same as he had remembered, because it was the same Hermione. The same everything.

She tore at him with equal need, kissing and praising with each slight move. Together they breathed in each other's aura, savoring their reunion, running their noses together and kissing every neglected feature.

"I have waited so long for you, love," he whispered hoarsely, pulling away to frame her face with his hands. He stole small sneaking kisses every second he could as he pressed his forehead against hers.

She pet him affectionately, "I can't believe you waited." Tears cascaded down her cheeks like thin romantic waterfalls.

"I would have waited longer-"

"I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you. I wanted to-"

"I know you did," he soothed, touched by her compassion and honesty. He loved feeling the silky texture of her hair through his fingers, again. It was like finding a treasure one lost so many years ago.

"I died inside when I saw you ride off, Sirius."

"I thought you were dead," his voice broke. "I thought Voldemort got to you, just like Lily and James."

"I wouldn't have left you if I had a choice!" she begged. She surveyed his entire face, running a free hand down his cheek, afraid he would disappear into thin air and he was just a dream. She didn't want him to have any doubts in her.

"I know, love," he consoled, "But, it's done now."

Seeing her tears only touched him more. He kissed her nose, her cheeks, and her lips just one more time before looking into the same loving eyes from so many years ago. He had only looked into platonic eyes until now, eyes that saw him as Harry's father, Remus's friend, just a friend. Those same eyes had changed to him, transforming to the eyes of his angel with warming features that gave him the desire to live.

Hermione felt comfort in his arms again, like she really was only gone from him for a few hours. Nothing felt different. Though a little older, his eyes, his smile, his aura, his smell, his devilishly good looks were all still him. It felt like she never had to say good-bye, never had to see him flying off on his motorbike to be condemned, but always here waiting for her the entire time.

"I couldn't save James, I wanted to, but I couldn't! It would have-"

"Shhh, I know," he pacified quietly.

"I just couldn't, I need you to know that!"

"Hermione, love, please. Don't say anything." He pressed a finger to her quivering lip, "I know the rules of a Time Turner; I had plenty of time to do the research. There was nothing you were allowed to do." His brow crinkled at the center and he shook his head sympathetically, "I understand."

She reached for him again, hugging him close and resting her chin under his neck. He laid a hand on the back of her head, tenderly stroking her hair.

"The hardest part of all, was watching you grow up. I would look at you with such dangerous eyes, I'm surprised no one said anything," he said to her quietly, as if guarding a deep guilty secret. "Well, Remus did, naturally."

She smiled into his shirt, smelling his romantic cologne and letting it fill her senses. Her hand slid up the front of his jacket, her fingers taking notice of the ornate buttons. She'd never been this close to adult Sirius, before and it was enticingly euphoric.

"So much has happened. The world is so different, now," she whispered, leaving kisses against his neck. She felt so comfortable, so tranquil, laying her head against him. She felt his fingers trailing small circles against her back.

"I waited all these years for you and now that you're here," he hesitated, going out on a ledge, "I don't know if this is right for you."

"Don't you dare!" she cried, pulling herself off of him to grab the lapels of his jacket firmly. Her hands began to tremble immediately in their grasp.

"I'm not quite the same person I was, Hermione."

With a heated fire within her loins, she was not letting him get away. Her fingers held tighter to his jacket and she forced a kiss on him that rendered him powerless before pulling away to say, "You're the person I fell in love with! I got to know both of you, but the whole time I kept thinking of _this_ you. The older you, the one that I was going to see, the one that belongs in my time, the one that watches over Harry, the one that sits silently in the shadows. You're still the same to me."

Sirius's lips parted, but he was speechless at first. He just pushed her hair out of her face, wondering what he'd done right to make her still want him. "I think you're absolutely mad. Beautiful, but mad."

"Maybe I am, but maybe I'm just as stubborn as someone else I know that wouldn't let up."

He couldn't help but smirk, fondly remembering the way he followed her up the street while still sitting on his motorcycle

"I need you to take that place in my life. You're the one I want." She looked upon him fondly, not fully believing that he was the same man just hours ago told her he loved her. "It was only a few hours ago that you drove off in that storm. My heart broke."

Sirius closed his eyes, sealing the moment to his memories. Feeling her close, hearing her voice and listening to every single word made him feel lighter than air. She was an answer to years' worth of prayers and requests - his patience had paid off. He wanted the day to come where he could kiss her soft red lips once more and slide his hands over her naked curves.

His silence was worrying. Though she still had his attention, he hadn't agreed to anything. His face looked content, his brow creases subsiding. Handsome chiseled features twitched slightly as he breathed normal, calming himself before opening his eyes to her anxious brown ones.

"You might not be in love with me, right now. But, I'm here if you still want me."

Sirius was crushed that he hadn't answered her until that moment. How cruel he was to leave her hanging without an answer, without a solid word. His hands smoothed around her neck where his fingers clutched her neck gently. He was moved beyond words and managed to sum it up in one sentence when he pressed his forehead against hers, believing them to be the only two people in the world.

"You were my reason for life, love."

THE END


End file.
